


Lion's Rise

by wolfandwild



Series: Lion of the Alliance [6]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Assassination Plot(s), F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-World of Warcraft: Warlords of Draenor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-02-11 06:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 165,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12929469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfandwild/pseuds/wolfandwild
Summary: The war in Draenor is over, and a tentative peace has returned to Azeroth. Auriana Fenwild has returned home, at long last ready to begin her future with High King Varian Wrynn. But although the newly raised Archmage is a veteran when it comes to fighting demons and monsters, she is entirely unprepared for the sinister plots and intrigue that now await her in Stormwind...





	1. Auriana

**Author's Note:**

> This work has previously been published on Fanfiction.net, though I'm currently in the process of cross-posting the entire series to AO3.
> 
> I intend to do some fairly major revisions and expansions to the series in future (particularly to the first two/three volumes), but for now this will have to do!

Auriana Fenwild was alone.

She was standing upon the ruins of a once great city, though she could not have said where she was, or how she had she had come to be there. There was little to distinguish one pile of rubble from another, and no landmarks that Auriana could recognise. What was clear, however, was that some kind of great calamity had befallen the city, and that not a single soul had survived its destruction.

A strange aura of wrongness hung over the ruins, and Auriana's heart instinctively beat faster as she cautiously began to explore her immediate surroundings. She made her way for the tallest pile of debris she could find, and carefully climbed her way to the top. The devastation was unrelenting, stretching as far as the eye could see, though oddly enough, Auriana could not see a single body. Discarded weaponry lay everywhere, but despite all the evidence of a great battle, there were no fallen combatants to be found.

A bright flash of blue cloth suddenly caught her eye; the lone burst of colour in a sea of desolate stone grey. Auriana half slid, half fell down the tower of rubble on which she had stood, and she made her way towards the blue cloth as fast as she was able. She gathered her power around her like a shield as she clambered over the shattered masonry, unable to shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her like a cloud, and carefully knelt between two great slabs of stone.

It took some effort to extricate the blue material from where it lay, but after a few minutes Auriana was able to wriggle it free. She smoothed the tattered fabric out over her lap, hoping it would give her some kind of clue as to her whereabouts - and immediately wished she hadn't. The blue cloth was, in fact, a  _banner_ , marked with a bloodstained Alliance lion. It was edged with finely wrought gold thread, and Auriana gasped as she realised there was only one place in the world that she could possibly be. Desperately, she looked around for anythingthat would suggest that she was wrong, only for her jaw to drop in horror as she began to recognise the shapes of familiar buildings amongst the ruins.

_Stormwind._

"No…" she breathed, fighting back a rising sense of panic. "Not Stormwind. It's impossible. I was there just this morning… it  _can't_ be…"

A cold, cruel laugh sounded from somewhere behind her, and Auriana turned in horror to see Archimonde the Defiler standing upon what she now realised were the remains of Stormwind Keep. He was exactly as she remembered, impossibly large and powerful, with eyes of pure hellfire. If anything, he looked even more impressive than he had on Draenor, his gargantuan muscles rippling beneath freshly forged armour. She had no idea how he had appeared so quickly and silently, though of course  _nothing_  about her current situation made any kind of sense.

"You're dead," Auriana stammered, trying not to shake. "You're dead. We stopped you. We  _killed_ you."

"The Legion is endless," Archimonde intoned, seeming to grow even larger with every word. "As will be your suffering."

He raised a hand, and a massive fel meteor suddenly rocketed towards Auriana's position. She blinked to the side at the last second, covering her head with her hands as the meteor's impact showered her with debris. Another meteor followed, and another, and with a horrible sinking feeling, Auriana realised that Archimonde was playing some kind of cruel game. He wasn't actually trying to kill her, but rather make her scramble about the ruins of Stomwind for his own twisted amusement.

_To hell with this,_ she thought grimly, as yet another meteor missed her by inches.  _I'm not dying on the run._

"I'll fight you," she snarled, sliding to a sudden stop as a chunk of stonework shattered right beside her. "I've done it before. I can do it again."

To Auriana's surprise, Archimonde immediately ceased his fel assault, and stared down at her with a calculating grin.

"Is that so?" he crooned, the sudden quietness of his voice infinitely more terrifying than his shout. "But how can you possibly hope to defeat me, girl, when you are so very  _alone_?"

The eredar lord took a slow, deliberate step to the side, his eyes gleaming in triumph, and Auriana's soul shattered as she beheld Varian's lifeless body, impaled upon the the ruined ramparts of his own Keep. She screamed so loudly that she thought she must have torn her throat wide open, and she felt the pain of a thousand knives tear viciously through her heart. She tasted the salt of her own desperate tears on her lips as she clutched blindly at her magic, and a red haze unlike any she had ever known descended ominously over her vision. In that moment, she no longer knew what it was to show restraint, or kindness, or mercy, as everything she had been was reduced to naught but fire and fury and bloodlust...

And then she was nothing at all.

* * *

With a gasp, Auriana sat bolt upright in her bed, raking both hands through her sweaty hair. Her heart was pounding violently, and her legs were quivering as if she'd just run twenty miles. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, desperately trying to tell herself it was all just a dream, and that she was perfectly safe within her rooms in the floating mage city of Dalaran. It was difficult, however, when it all felt so  _real_ ; from the horrifying sound of Archimonde's voice echoing through her bones, to the scent of smoke and burning cloth in the air...

_Cloth?_

"Damn!" she swore, her eyes flying open. "Damn, damn, damn!"

Auriana threw herself out of bed, nearly falling on her face as her legs tangled in the blankets. While Archimonde may not have been real, the pyroblast she had cast most definitely  _was_ , and it had set the heavy purple curtains on the opposite side of her room ablaze. She staggered, smacking hard into the side of her wooden wardrobe, and winced as she stubbed her toe on the foot of the bed. She had no time to inspect the damage, however, if she were going to prevent the rest of the room from catching on fire.

Ignoring the pain in her toe and the sudden bite of the cold night air on her bare legs, Auriana quickly gathered her magic, and blanketed half the room in a wave of frost. The curtains had caught fire surprisingly quickly, and she decided that it was best to err on the side of caution. She shivered as her conjured blizzard swirled about the room, but she maintained the spell until she was certain that there were no flames remaining, and the room was once again plunged into darkness.

Auriana stood in the dark for a few long moments, listening to her own laboured breathing, before she turned to light the lamp on her side table with a simple wave of her hand. She looked down at her feet, and sighed in dismay as she beheld her bloody and swollen toe.

"Ow," she muttered, hopping awkwardly over to her dresser.

Given her talent for collecting injuries, Auriana had long ago fallen into the habit of keeping basic first aid supplies wherever she lived, and she quickly set about bandaging her battered toe. It was a small injury, especially compared to most of the damage she had taken over the years, but she didn't want to bleed all over the floor - especially considering that her curtains were undoubtedly damaged beyond repair.

_Jaina's going to kill me_ , she thought, staring ruefully over at the charred remains of the once decadent cloth.

The blonde Archmage had been kind enough to offer Auriana permanent quarters for whenever she was in Dalaran, and now she had repaid that kindness by lighting the room on fire. Curtains aside, it would also take a while to get the smell of smoke and burned linen out of the room, though she had at least managed to prevent any real structural damage.

Sighing, Auriana finished treating her bloody toe, and carefully stowed her bandages in the dresser once more. She then moved to crawl back into bed, only to realise that she was not at all tired. Dreaming of Varian's death had rattled her to the core, and she knew she wasn't likely to get any sleep whilst her body was still humming with adrenaline an anxiety. Instead of the bed, then, Auriana walked over to her wardrobe, and pulled out a woollen dress, a cloak, and a pair of heavy boots. Her normally comfortable rooms now felt distinctly claustrophobic, and so she decided to clear her thoughts with a bracing walk.

The air outside was cold, as it always was in Dalaran at night. The high altitude, combined with the generally frigid climate of Northrend, made for lovely temperate days but chilly nights, and Auriana was glad for her cloak as she made her way out of the Violet Citadel and down towards the Eventide. The cool wind bit at her nose and cheeks as she walked, and she knew very well that her pale face would be bright pink within minutes. Fortunately, the city was virtually empty at this time of night. She guessed that it was a couple of hours after midnight, and the only other people awake were a few lonely guards going about their patrols.

Auriana was immensely grateful for the silence and the stillness of the night air, and she even found herself relaxing slightly as she made a slow lap of the city. She fell into a slight trance as she walked, purposefully keeping her mind blank so as not to lose herself once again in the grips of her nightmare. It was a difficult task, and it required so much of her concentration that she failed to notice the tall, dark figure heading in her direction. She barrelled into him without thinking, and would have cried out had she not recognised the familiar grey beard looming over her.

"Khadgar!" she gasped, touching a hand to her chest. "What are you doing out this late?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said, gently catching her shoulders to prevent her from falling. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," she murmured. "Honestly, I haven't slept properly since the siege of Hellfire Citadel. Hell, I suppose I haven't really slept properly since Blackrock Foundry, but tonight was… bad."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Khadgar asked, his blue eyes kind.

Once certain that she would not topple over, he carefully released her shoulder, and stood back with his arms folded across his chest. For a moment, Auriana considered refusing his offer, before remembering her recent resolution to be more open with the people around her.

"I… I keep seeing Archimonde in my dreams," she confessed. "Honestly, it's like he's right there, standing over me while I sleep. The things he says, Khadgar..."

She sighed, and hugged her arms tightly about her body.

"You… you're sure he's dead… right?" she asked, unable to keep a note of pleading from entering her voice.

"As certain as I can be," Khadgar said firmly. "I have been probing the Twisting Nether, searching for Gul'Dan… and I have come across nothing that might suggest Archimonde is still alive."

"Is that where you were tonight?" she wondered.

"Yes," Khadgar replied seriously, gathering his robes beneath him and taking a seat on the edge of a nearby fountain.

Projecting one's power into the Twisting Nether was a monumental task, even for a mage as skilled as Khadgar, and Auriana realised that there was only one place on Azeroth where he could have accessed enough magical energy for the task.

"You went to Karazhan," she said flatly, taking a seat at her mentor's side. "I hope you know you're playing with fire, there."

"I am aware," he said sternly, shooting her a sidelong glance. "There was a particular confluence of power tonight in the ley nexus beneath Karazhan. It presented me with a unique opportunity to look further than I ever have. I felt the potential gain was worth the risk."

"Any luck?"

"None whatsoever," Khadgar sighed, looking as weary as Auriana had ever seen him. "For the time being, at least, Gul'Dan remains elusive."

"Until he decides to show his ugly face back here," she added bitterly.

"Indeed," Khadgar agreed, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

It was rare to see the normally unflappable Archmage in a state of genuine irritation, though Auriana sympathised completely.

"I hate… waiting," she growled. "We should be out there, taking the fight to the Legion directly."

"I don't disagree," Khadgar said quietly, "But the Twisting Nether is a big place. We have no idea where their strongholds are located, or even  _when_  they are in time."

"I know," Auriana sighed. "I'm just getting a bit tired of waking in a terrified sweat every night."

"Your dreams are that bad?" Khadgar asked worriedly, leaning forward and rubbing a thoughtful hand across his chin.

"I accidentally lit my room on fire tonight," she muttered sheepishly. "I panicked in the dream, and… well… my curtains bore the brunt."

"Really?" he asked. "I've never heard of someone using magic in their sleep."

"I'm just lucky I was here, and not in Stormwind," Auriana murmured, her voice breaking slightly. "What if I'd hit Varian? What if I'd hurt him, Khadgar, I..."

"Hey," he said calmly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. Varian is perfectly safe, there's no harm done."

"Tell that to my curtains," Auriana snorted.

She shook her head ruefully, horrified at the thought of hurting the man she loved. For a brief second, she was right back in the dream, staring at Varian's unmoving body, and she couldn't stop herself from shivering violently.

"You want to know one thing that really bothers me about the Legion?" she said, more to distract herself than anything else. "It's that all of them - Archimonde, Gul'Dan, every damn demon I've ever come across - they all keep trying to offer me a  _job_. They think I should join them. They think I'm like them, and sometimes… I wonder if they're seeing something I'm not."

"Oh, no," Khadgar said urgently, reaching forward to take her by the hand. "No, my girl, no."

"But…"

"Look," he said firmly, "I know you're not exactly…"

"Socially gifted?" she supplied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes… let's go with that…" Khadgar agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But you aren't a thing like Archimonde, or Gul'Dan. You  _care_. You care so much that it hurts. To be like them, you'd have to stop caring about anyone other than yourself... and I don't think you're capable of that. You're a good person, Auriana, and no one will ever convince me otherwise."

Auriana blushed furiously at Khadgar's words, somewhat surprised that he would defend her so passionately. She tilted her head backwards, ostensibly to stare up at the stars, though it was really to hide the sudden prick of tears behind her eyes. Fortunately, Khadgar had an uncanny ability to sense the moods of others, and he allowed her to sit in comfortable silence for as long as it took to collect her thoughts.

Eventually, however, Auriana gathered herself enough to meet Khadgar's eyes, and she offered him a small, shaky smile.

"You know," he said quietly, carefully changing the topic, "I didn't expect to see you in Dalaran overnight. I thought you might be in Stormwind…"

He trailed off, and Auriana frowned. Between her dream and the incident with the curtains, she had almost forgotten why she had been sleeping in Dalaran. Khadgar's obvious curiosity also instantly raised her defenses, and she struggled to resist the urge to shut down. That said, opening up to the Archmage had thus far been easier than she had expected, and she decided that there was little point in concealing the rest of her concerns from him.

"Stormwind has been… difficult," she admitted. "I was due to report to Jaina tomorrow, but I decided to arrive a bit early. I've been here since lunchtime."

"Is Varian treating you poorly?" Khadgar asked, looking rather surprised at the thought.

"No," Auriana said quickly. "No, of course not. Varian is… very attentive. It's everyone else in Stormwind who's the problem."

She sighed, and stared down at her hands.

"I expected our relationship to attract… interest, of course…" she explained, "Especially considering  _how_  we made it public… but I thought the fuss might die down after a while. And yet… it's been over a month since I returned from Draenor, and I'm still the subject of all kinds of gossip."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, depending on the day… I've either used my powers to bewitch Varian into loving me," Auriana said, shrugging, "Or I'm blackmailing him, or I'm carrying his bastard child and he has no choice but to be with me. I could go on, but I think you get the picture."

"I see," Khadgar said soberly, his brow creasing thoughtfully. "Um… you're not… are you? Pregnant, I mean."

" _No_!" she exclaimed, swatting him in the arm. "Of course not. And I know I shouldn't let it bother me, but… this is all very new. I'm used to enemies that will fight me directly, not enemies that whisper at me from the shadows. I can face down a demon lord without thinking, without even hesitating... but I have no idea what to do about some snarky little nobleman's daughter who wants to show me up."

"Does Varian know?" Khadgar wondered. "I can't imagine he'd stand for that kind of thing."

"I haven't told him," Auriana murmured, shifting her weight uncomfortably. "The nobles are  _very_ good at playing this game. Most of the gossip has come to me second hand; I don't actually know who's  _starting_  the rumours, as opposed to who's just passing on what they've heard. And I don't want to cause him more trouble than I already have."

She glanced downwards, knowing that she had just told a partial lie. In actual fact, she had a very good idea who was responsible, at least for  _some_  of the cruel chatter that had been aimed her way, but she knew she couldn't move against him without evidence. Despite their flaws, the House of Nobles were both important and influential, and Auriana knew that disrupting the delicate balance between the crown and nobility without good cause could have far-reaching consequences for the citizens of Stormwind.

"They don't think I'm worthy of him," she added, wringing her hands slightly. "Maybe they're right."

"Poppycock," Khadgar exclaimed, staring her right in the eye. "Of course you're worthy of him. Varian is very much a man of his own opinions, and he  _chose_  you. I'm also fairly sure he thinks you're worth an awful lot of trouble. Don't forget that."

"'Poppycock'?" Auriana repeated, unable to keep herself from smiling. " _That_  doesn't make you sound about a million years old…"

"It's a perfectly appropriate word," Khadgar retorted, his eyes twinkling. "And I'm not old. I'm distinguished."

He lifted his chin with mock imperiousness, and Auriana barked out a brief, sardonic laugh.

"Your age is finally starting to catch up to your looks," she teased.

"Oh, funny…" he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "And here I was thinking that you preferred older men."

"Hey!" she shouted, both surprised and amused by his clever retort. " _Now_  who's the comedian?"

The two mages exchanged quick, genuine smiles, and Auriana felt the heavy weight that had settled over her heart lessen slightly. Talking to Khadgar was always enlightening, though she was surprised how much her mood had improved simply by sharing her burdens. He had not offered judgement or censure, as Auriana had somewhat expected, and she began to wonder why she had avoided openly expressing her feelings so determinedly in the past.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, growing serious once more. "I know I can always count on you to knock my head on straight."

"Anytime, my dear," Khadgar replied warmly, gently patting her thigh. "I'm sorry I can't do much to help you with your nightmares, or the gossips in Stormwind… but if you ever need to be reminded of your worth, I will always be here for you."

He rose to his feet, yawning slightly as he stood.

"Well, this old man had best be off to bed," he said. "Unless you'd like me to stay?"

"No, I'll be alright," Auriana said firmly, not wanting to impinge on his kindness any further. "You've done more than enough."

"Would you like me to walk you back to the Violet Citadel?"

"I think I'll stay out a bit longer," she said, offering him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "I'm not really tired, and it's a lovely clear night."

"Very well," Khadgar conceded, though a frown of deep concern flashed briefly across his features. "Don't stay out here too long, mind. You'll catch a chill."

"I won't," she assured him, both amused and touched by his fatherly concern. "Goodnight, Khadgar."

"Goodnight, Auriana. Sleep well."


	2. Auriana

Despite her late night, Auriana woke early the next morning, and reported immediately to Jaina Proudmoore. Since returning from Draenor, Auriana had been acting as an enforcer for the Kirin Tor; a battlemage capable of discharging the will of Dalaran and keeping Azeroth safe from magical threats. Unfortunately, her duties thus far had largely consisted of improving the magical defenses of Dalaran and Stormwind, though this morning Jaina had assigned her a far more interesting task. A rogue elemental had apparently been terrorising the citizens of Loch Modan, and the Council of Three Hammers had asked Jaina to intervene. Auriana rapidly agreed to investigate, keen to get out of the city and test her magic. She hadn't really been challenged since being injured on Draenor, and was curious to see how her powers had been affected by her duel with Archimonde.

Per Jaina's information, the entire Council had requested the aid of the Kirin Tor, though Auriana found only Moira Thaurissan waiting as she entered the High Seat of Ironforge. The Queen Regent was standing next to one of the many fires that lined the room, staring thoughtfully into the flames. She was tall for a dwarf, especially a female dwarf, and stood only a handful of inches shorter than Auriana herself. Her long red hair was elaborately bound in the fashion currently favoured by dwarvish noblewomen, and she wore a high-necked dress of deep purple that hugged her generous curves tightly.

Auriana coughed slightly to announce her presence, and bowed respectfully before the leader of the dwarves. Moira turned swiftly, her sharp green eyes raking Auriana from head to toe. Auriana thought she saw a brief flicker of surprise cross the Queen-Regent's face, though it vanished so quickly that she couldn't be entirely sure.

"Thank ye fer answering my summons on such short notice," Moira said evenly, motioning for Auriana to stand. "Archmage…?"

"Auriana Fenwild," Auriana supplied promptly. "Jaina Proudmoore sends her regards, and has instructed me to aid you in whatever way I can."

She had actually met Moira once before, though the meeting had been brief, and the dwarven woman had been entirely distracted by Khadgar at the time. From her expression, however, it seemed that Moira  _did_ remember their meeting, though perhaps not the specifics.

"I know ye..." she said slowly.

Auriana shifted her weight uncomfortably, suddenly wondering if word of her relationship with Varian had reached this far north. Being the talk of Stormwind was one thing, but being the talk of the entire  _Alliance_  was something else. Of course, it was probably going to happen eventually, but Auriana had hoped she might have a little more time.

"Ye accompanied Khadgar ta the Winter's Veil ball in Stormwind," Moira said suddenly, snapping her fingers.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Auriana said, nodding. "I did."

She tried hard not to look too relieved that Moira had remembered her from the ball, and not as the consort of the High King, but her solace proved only temporary.

"And yer the girl that's beddin' Varian Wrynn," the Queen Regent added quickly, a slightly salacious smile playing about her broad features.

"Ah… yes. Also… me," Auriana muttered, certain that her face was now as red as Moira's hair. "Um… Jaina said you were having trouble with an elemental?"

A slight note of desperation had entered her voice, and she could only hope that Moira would not press the topic further. She certainly had no desire to be drawn into a discussion of her relationship with a woman she barely knew, especially when she was ostensibly in Ironforge on business.

"Right ye are," Moira agreed swiftly, though she was still watching Auriana uncomfortably closely. "There's some kind o' beastie causing all sorts o' trouble out near the Loch. Our villages are in a panic, and I need that thing gone."

"With respect, Majesty, this hardly seems like a matter for the Kirin Tor," Auriana said slowly. "I personally know of at least half a dozen mages in this city who are more than capable of dealing with a single rogue elemental."

Moira eyed Auriana shrewdly, and she seemed to be wrestling with something internally.

"Do ye know much of the politics in Ironforge, Archmage?" she asked, her voice suddenly low and urgent. "Do ye know about the clans and the Council?"

"Some," Auriana said truthfully. "After King Magni was petrified, you returned to Ironforge with your son. As Magni's grandson, he is the rightful heir to the throne of Ironforge. However, your return to Ironforge with the Dark Iron clan nearly resulted in a civil war. The Alliance was forced to intervene, which eventually lead to the formation of the Council of Three Hammers, by the edict of the High King."

Auriana spoke carefully, very deliberately glossing over the fact that Moira herself had been a significant factor in the troubles that had plagued Ironforge prior to the Cataclysm. She had, in truth, held the city hostage, and had nearly been killed by Varian for the way she had treated her own people. Dwarves were famously proud people, and although Moira had shown considerable growth during her reign, Auriana knew that she would be unwise to push the Queen Regent too far.

"Yer well informed," the dwarf queen said softly, inclining her head in what Auriana hoped was a gesture of approval.

Moira turned her back on Auriana and stared into the fire, linking her hands behind her back as she stood in thoughtful repose.

"In a way, the war in Draenor was something of a blessin' for my people," she added. "Dark Irons, Bronzebeards, Wildhammers… all were forced to work together ta defend their home, and I believe that the bonds between the clans are stronger than they've ever been. Ironforge  _is_  at peace, but it is a peace that could be easily shattered."

"You don't think the troubles in Loch Modan are natural?" Auriana asked shrewdly.

"No, I don't," Moira admitted. "Not all the Dark Iron clan were willin' ta enter the city and submit ta the rule o' the Council. They believe as I once did - that our brethren in Ironforge must be conquered, not accepted."

She sighed.

"I don't wish ta create problems where none yet exist," she murmured. "If a Bronzebeard or a Wildhammer mage were ta discover that a Dark Iron was behind the attacks, everything we have built could crumble overnight. The Kirin Tor, on the other hand, are a neutral party. Yer not as likely ta jump ta conclusions as a dwarven mage might."

"I understand," Auriana said sincerely. "I assure you, you can count on my discretion."

"Thank ye. But be careful out there, Archmage," Moira said warningly. "Dark Iron mages are strong, and they're particularly skilled at summoning elementals."

"I'm always careful, Majesty," Auriana replied, offering Moira what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

 _Not that Varian ever believes me…_  she added silently, rolling her eyes ever so slightly to herself as she turned to depart the High Seat.

Once outside, Auriana made her way quickly through the city, pointedly ignoring the many curious glances that came her way. She hoped that the dwarves were interested simply because she was human, or unusually small-statured, or because she had emerged alone from the High Seat; though the more paranoid part of her mind wondered if it were because they knew  _exactly_  who she was. Auriana had never really paid much attention to gossip or the opinions of others, though ever since she had returned to Stormwind as Varian's consort, she had become almost hypervigilant. Even the slightest bit of attention was enough to set her on edge, and it took nearly all her restraint not to simply run towards the Ironforge flight master.

She had initially intended to open a portal directly to Loch Modan, but had eventually decided to take a gryphon. Flying would give her an opportunity to get the lay of the land around Ironforge and the Loch, while also giving her a chance to clear her thoughts. Luckily, the air outside the dwarven capital was cool and fresh, and Auriana found herself genuinely enjoying the flight over the mountain and down towards the Loch. There was no denying that the scenery around Ironforge was spectacular; the glossy white of the snowy mountains eventually giving way to the temperate greenery of Loch Modan. There was no time for idle sightseeing, however, and Auriana flew directly to the small dwarven village of Thelsamar, both to stable her borrowed gryphon, and to talk briefly with the townspeople before striking out for the Loch itself.

Auriana had not been to Loch Modan for several years, and she was surprised to see how much the landscape had changed since the Cataclysm. She had heard stories, of course, but it was something entirely different to see the reality. The mighty loch had been reduced to a mere fraction of its former glory, and was now more a series of isolated pools of water, rather than a single lake. Still, there was more than enough water remaining to attract aquatic wildlife, and Auriana kept a careful eye on some nearby crocolisks as she settled down to work.

Although Auriana had been somewhat reluctant to take on the role of Archmage, she had to admit that it had some benefits. Most notably, her higher rank now permitted her access to the restricted sections of Dalaran's library. It had only been just over a month since she had returned from Draenor, but her magical knowledge had increased considerably during that time. Due to her injuries, however, she had been forced to take it easy for a few weeks, and she was excited to have finally been presented with an opportunity to flex her magical muscles.

She closed her eyes and reached out with her magical senses, trying to detect anything unusual happening in the vicinity of the Loch. Azeroth always hummed with background magic, even if there was no active spellwork in the area, but Auriana was experienced enough to easily filter out the planet's natural energy from her calculations. To the west, she could distinctly feel the spells of protection that surrounded the dwarven village of Thelsamar, as well as something fainter further north, towards Algaz Station. Neither site seemed affected by any unusual or dangerous magic, however, and Auriana ground her teeth in mild frustration as she extended her senses even further afield.

Auriana spent almost an hour in a near-trance, doggedly seeking any sign of the rogue elemental. It wasn't unheard of for elementals to move between the planes, either accidentally or of their own accord, but given the local dwarves' description of the problem, Auriana doubted that this  _particular_ elemental was here by chance. Allegedly, it had been surfacing every day or so to terrorise the local dwarven populations, only to disappear without a trace. The variable frequency and random nature of the attacks did tend to suggest a rogue, but Auriana very much doubted an elemental of such power would have appeared without being summoned.

A sudden burst of power to the north-east attracted Auriana's attention, and her eyes flew open as she turned her head toward the epicentre of the magic. It certainly wasn't natural, whatever it was, and she immediately shot back to her feet. She guessed that whoever had cast the spell was about three miles from her current position, and she began to quickly make her way down the side of the hill on which she was currently standing.

She had barely made it three feet, however, when the hillside erupted. Chunks of dirt rained down everywhere, and when the dust finally settled, Auriana realised she was no longer alone. The creature suddenly standing before her was a magma elemental, a scion of both stone and flame, and it possessed all the obdurate power of the deep places of the earth. This particular elemental was absolutely enormous, at least three times as tall as Auriana herself, with massive fists of molten rock. A low rumbling sound emanated from somewhere deep in its core, and although it lacked a proper face, she got the distinct feeling that it was  _angry_.

Auriana was not one to be cowed by a single elemental, however, and she held her ground as the thing began to charge. She raised her hand almost lazily, ready to blast the elemental to pieces with a simple spell – and froze. Something about the way it balled its fists reminded her unerringly of Archimonde, and in an instant, it was as if she were suddenly back on Draenor. A terrifying chill gripped her heart, and she was entirely unable to move, even as the elemental closed in to attack. It slammed both fists the earth, causing the ground beneath Auriana's feet to roil and heave, and she found herself flying through the air as a particularly large upthrust of rock sent her rocketing backwards.

She landed heavily on her backside, crying out in surprise and pain as she slammed into the ground. Her recently healed shoulder throbbed angrily in protest, though fortunately it seemed merely bruised, rather than having been dislocated once more. Of course, it still hurt like hell, and Auriana had to fight back a genuine sense of panic as she scrambled away from the advancing elemental. She had no idea why her magic had failed, only that it had, and she wanted to get well away from the elemental before it attempted to pound her into dust for the second time.

Unfortunately, she was very exposed on the top of the hill, and there was no way she would be able to outrun the elemental to either the left or the right. It had thrown her a good distance, but it was closing in quickly, with its fists already raised in preparation for another ground slam. Auriana looked around frantically for a source of inspiration, and abruptly realised that there was one direction she hadn't considered. She did, in fact, have a choice: between almost certain death at the hands of the looming elemental, and a rough roll down the leeward side of the hill and into the remains of the Loch.

She chose the hill.

Pebbles and small sticks bit at Auriana's exposed flesh as she threw herself off the side of the hill, and she locked her hands around her head in an attempt to protect the more sensitive skin of her face. It was a steep drop, and in no time at all she had plunged shoulder first into the muddy banks of the Loch. She then slipped and slid a further ten feet forward, before finally crashing into the lake in a spectacular spray of water.

Auriana spat out a mouthful of bitter liquid as she resurfaced, frantically brushing her wet and muddy hair out of her eyes. The elemental still loomed on the hill above her, and if it had had a proper face, she thought it might have looked confused. Clearly, it had not expected her to throw herself off a small cliff to avoid an attack, and it was now uncertain. Confusion alone was not enough to deter the thing, however, and it began to once again advance on her position.

 _Come on,_ Auriana urged herself silently.  _Fight or die!_

Her precipitous plunge into the Loch had at least bought her time, and she forced herself to take several slow, steadying breaths. She was sitting chest deep in the murky waters of the Loch, the small ripples from her initial impact lapping as high as her neck, but there was no time to try and gather her feet in the mud. The elemental was too big and too close – and she had no idea whether her magic would fail for a second time.

 _Don't think about it,_  she growled inwardly.  _Just do what you have to do._

The elemental slowed as it reached the waterline, clearly anxious about entering such an unfamiliar domain, but Auriana knew it wouldn't hesitate for long. Even if it couldn't get close enough to pummel her with its rocky arms, she knew it could throw liquid hot magma at her from great distances, and the Loch would offer little protection.

Steeling herself, Auriana used the water all around her to amplify her magic, and in a sudden rush of power, she sent a twenty-foot-high wave of ice rocketing forwards. The magma elemental could not have hoped to dodge if it had tried, and it raised both arms in an ultimately futile attempt to ward off the encroaching ice. Encouraged, Auriana poured more of her power into the spell, fully intending to freeze the elemental solid. It took considerable effort, given the creature's natural internal heat and blazing fists, but Auriana was not about to let go of the upper hand easily. She grit her teeth as she slowly froze the elemental to a complete stop, before shattering the thing into a million pieces with a perfectly placed ice lance.

Large pieces of icy rock tumbled down into the Loch as Auriana slowly lowered her hands, and let out a soft sound of relief. Small fish swarmed around her ankles, though she made no immediate attempt to stand. She had defeated the elemental, yes, but she had never had her powers fail so abruptly. Of course, her failure had not been one of ability, but rather one of will. Her magic had been there, waiting, even  _begging_  to be used, but she had panicked, and in the doing so had nearly been killed.

She sighed, and looked to the north.

Whatever spell had summoned the elemental to Azeroth was still out there, and Auriana's work would not be done until it was destroyed. Her bruised back twinged painfully, but she ignored it as she slowly rose to her feet and clambered awkwardly out of the Loch. She quickly removed her boots, dumping at least a gallon of water out of each before putting them back on, and begrudgingly began to make her way towards the place she had last sensed unusual magic.

It was not particularly comfortable walking across Loch Modan's undulating meadows with muddy boots and sopping wet clothes, but Auriana had little choice. She certainly wasn't going to fail her mission just because of a bit of mud, no matter how tiresome the squelching might have been. Fortunately, it didn't take her long to locate the epicentre of the spell, hidden away in a stand of trees just outside the Mo'Grosh ogre mound. There was not a sentient being in sight, only a very complex rune binding that was designed to call on the magma elemental at random times Auriana supposed that she could understand the elemental's anger, having been ripped unceremoniously from its home plane every few days, and she briefly regretted having had to annihilate the creature.

Luckily, while such rune bindings were difficult to create, they were very easy to destroy. Auriana was very careful not to touch the runes that controlled the elemental, lest she accidentally summon one of her own, but rather set about rubbing away the runes that provided the power for the spell. Once those were erased, the rest were useless, and in no time at all she had scuffed out the entire binding with the toe of her boot. Auriana then turned her attention to the wider area, wondering who had cast the spell. It was not beyond the skill of the ogres at Mo'Grosh, assuming they still had magi living, though the construction of the spell didn't strike her as ogrish in nature. One thing, at least, was clear: whoever had set the binding had intended not to be discovered, and she very much doubted that they had remained in the area.

Auriana quickly realised that there was little more that she could do in Loch Modan right then, at least until she could gather more information. For now, at least, the local villages were safe, though she intended to keep a close eye on any further magical developments in the area. She also knew that Moira would grow anxious if she were delayed overlong, and in the interests of both expediency and whatever poor gryphon would have been subjected to her muddiness, she decided to open a portal directly back to Ironforge.

Once again, Auriana attracted considerable attention as she walked through the city, though this time she knew it was due to her dishevelled appearance. There were large chunks of stranglekelp tangled in her hair, and she was all but certain that she would be cleaning mud from her underwear for weeks to come. It was somewhat difficult to ignore the seemingly endless stream of curious glances and muttering that came her way, though Auriana made a stubborn effort to keep her chin high and her pace steady as she made her way back to the High Seat.

Inside, Moira was sitting idly in the heavy iron throne that took pride of place at the centre of the cavernous hall, though she didn't look entirely comfortable. If anything, she looked rather weary, as if the weight of the crown she had once so brashly craved was finally setting in.

"Queen-Regent," Auriana said formally, as if she were  _not_  currently caked in mud from head to toe.

" _Archmage_?" Moira exclaimed, leaping urgently to her feet. "Are ye alright?"

"I'm perfectly well," Auriana said dismissively, "Though I appreciate your concern."

"And the elemental?"

"Destroyed," Auriana confirmed, with some satisfaction. "Your hunch was correct, however. It  _was_  summoned."

Moira's lips pursed into a straight, angry line, and her short, thick fingers clenched into determined fists.

"Was it the Dark Irons?" she growled.

"Unfortunately, I have no way to tell," Auriana admitted. "I didn't see anyone in the area, but you know your people better than I do. It certainly wouldn't be outside the capabilities of any moderately skilled mage."

"I see. In that case - do ye think there will be more?" Moira asked, her voice suddenly clipped. "Elementals, I mean."

"Possibly," Auriana replied. "I destroyed the rune binding responsible for summoning this particular creature, but that doesn't mean that another one couldn't be made. That said, it takes time and energy to create a spell of that magnitude."

Moira nodded, and thoughtfully twisted one of the many golden bracelets that adorned her arms.

"I will increase patrols in the area, then, before another spell can be made," she said firmly, her mouth twisting into a stubborn frown. "I will not allow the stability o' Ironforge ta be threatened by a handful o' troublemakers, even those I consider my kin."

"I think that would be prudent," Auriana agreed, though she was somewhat surprised to find herself in a position to give advice to a sovereign ruler of the Alliance. "And if you have any more trouble, please don't hesitate to call on the Kirin Tor for assistance."

"Thank ye," Moira said sincerely. "Ironforge is most grateful for yer help in this matter – and your discretion."

Her tone was kindly enough, but Auriana distinctly heard the slightest hint of a threat in the Queen-Regent's words. Moira was subtly asking Auriana to keep her mouth shut, and it was clear that she would not tolerate any sort of gossip about Dark Iron mages and rogue elementals. Of course, Auriana had no intention of embroiling herself in the intricacies of dwarven politics in any case, though she  _could_  appreciate why Moira was being so careful.

"The Kirin Tor is always happy to assist in magical matters," she said diplomatically, and Moira nodded in brisk approval.

"Now - would ye like ta get cleaned up?" she asked, her earlier melancholy vanishing as if it had never been. "Yer not that much bigger than a dwarven lass, I'm sure we could find somethin' ta fit if ye wanted a change o' clothes."

"No, thank you," Auriana said, smiling politely. "I need to return to Stormwind, and there's plenty of clothes awaiting me there."

"And a bath, I hope," Moira added, her nose wrinkling delicately.

"Ah… yes," Auriana said, trying not to blush.

She must have smelled frightful, especially if Moira could discern anything over the general smoky scent that pervaded the city, and the urge to get rid of her muddy clothes became almost overwhelming.

"Very well, then," Moira declared. "I won't impose on yer time any longer, Archmage. Though I would ask if you would please give my regards to the High King."

Once again, her tone was perfectly pleasant and polite, but Auriana sensed that the statement was not quite as innocent as it may have seemed. Moira had not shown any particular interest in Auriana's relationship with Varian, though Auriana now suspected that the dwarf queen might have been more curious than she had let on. Auriana was certainly not used to the subtleties of nobility and politics, though she got the distinct feeling that she would have to learn to play the game quickly.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Farewell," she said smoothly, offering Moira a bow that was not a hair's breadth more than appropriate for an Archmage to a Queen, before she gathered her power and vanished in the blink of an eye.


	3. Auriana

Upon leaving Ironforge, Auriana teleported herself directly back to Varian's chambers. The King of Stormwind himself was absent, of course, given that it was still relatively early in the afternoon, but she knew he would return from his duties soon. In the meantime, she planned to put his spacious bathchamber to good use, and thoroughly clean herself of the mud and grime she had acquired during her impromptu dive into Loch Modan.

Auriana slipped off her filthy boots as soon as she rematerialised, taking great care to minimise the amount of dirt that she left on the floor. Varian's meticulous chamberlain, Falster, seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her presence in the castle, and she doubted that tracking dirt all throughout Varian's rooms would improve his opinion. Her boots in hand, she then crept out of the antechamber and into Varian's bedroom proper, carefully avoiding the thick fur rug that lay in the centre of the floor, before sneaking into the royal bathroom.

She found it somewhat difficult to peel off her tight, mud-caked breeches, but eventually managed to strip down with minimal fallout. Of course, it was impossible to prevent  _some_  dirt from spraying across the white stone floor, but Auriana thought she'd done a reasonable job of keeping the mess contained to one small corner. She laid her ruined clothing carefully on top of her boots, somewhat surprised to find that even her undergarments were soaked and dirty, before she set about filling Varian's heavy stone bathtub.

The tub itself was enormous, and Auriana was able to pick most of the larger pieces of stranglekelp from her hair by the time it was filled to an adequate depth. She slid into the hot water with an eager sigh, and slowly lowered her body until she was completely submerged. Given that the bathtub was built for a man of Varian's size – and then some – to Auriana it was more like a pool. She stretched her arms out above her head and pointed her toes, and she guessed she still had more than a foot of room to spare on either side.

The water was deep and deliciously hot, and Auriana luxuriated in the bath for almost an hour. She used small bursts of magic to keep the water warm, and allowed it to gently soothe away both the pain of her bruised backside and her wounded pride. It had been a long time since she had simply  _failed_  to cast a spell, and certainly she had never lacked for nerve or the will to fuel her magic. The thought of losing her edge was frightening, and Auriana had to repeatedly force the uncomfortable idea to the back of her mind as she continued to soak.

Only once her fingers and toes were thoroughly pruned did she sat full upright, ready to get out of the tub, only to immediately realise that she had made a critical error. In her eagerness to get clean, she had entirely forgotten that she had no spare change of clothes. Her pants and shirt had been ruined by the viscous mud of the Loch, and putting them back on would entirely defeat the purpose of having bathed. Cursing, Auriana leaned up against the side of a bathtub, futilely drumming her fingers against her forearm as she tried to think of a solution.

Her agitated gaze fell upon the door to Varian's large, walk-in robe, and she realised that while  _she_  had no clothes,  _Varian_ had plenty to spare. Auriana quickly slipped out of the tub and patted herself dry with a large, fleecy towel, before tiptoeing into Varian's closet. For a man who cared little for the vagaries of fashion, he had a surprisingly extensive wardrobe, though she supposed it was only to be expected given his position as king. Fortunately, the wardrobe was meticulously organised, despite its size, and Auriana had little trouble finding what she wanted. She knew that anything she chose would be ridiculously oversized, of course, but she figured one of Varian's loose undershirts would work as a makeshift dress until she could return to her apartment to find a proper replacement.

Biting her lip thoughtfully, Auriana slowly rifled through Varian's extensive collection of shirts, before she finally settled on an old, plain linen tunic and slipped it over her head. As she had expected, the tunic was dramatically overlarge, almost comically so, and the hem hung down well below her knees. She knew that she looked for all the world like a skinny child playing dress up in an adult's clothes, and she sighed sardonically as she left the wardrobe and flopped face down on Varian's enormous bed.

Auriana lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, her arms and legs akimbo, when she unexpectedly heard the outer door to the King's chambers open. She immediately rolled off the bed, suddenly shy, and moved to stand somewhat stiffly beside Varian's large oak dresser. Although the King had been nothing but welcoming, and had told her to treat his rooms as if they were her own, she couldn't help feeling like a child who had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her heart began to beat faster, and she could only hope that it was Varian himself who had just arrived, rather than a servant or the royal chamberlain.

"Auri?"

She breathed a sigh of relief as she recognised Varian's deep, commanding voice, though she subconsciously smoothed down the front of her borrowed tunic like it were a fine dress.

"In... in here," she called.

"I wasn't expecting you this early, is everything..." he started, only to stop and stare at her in surprise as he rounded the corner into his bedchamber. "What on  _earth_ are you wearing?"

Auriana flushed, and made a futile attempt to smooth her wet hair back behind her ears. The stone floor was cool against her bare feet, and she suddenly felt very young and very exposed.

"I needed a change of clothes," she explained. "I know I shouldn't have gone through your things, but it was sort of… an emergency. I'm sorry."

Varian cocked his head to the side and blinked several times, his heavy brows drawing together in an expression of confusion.

"You needn't apologise," he said quietly, his rich baritone sending shivers up her spine. "How many times have I told you? You never have to want for anything that's within my power to give.  _Anything_ , Auriana."

Varian shook his head slightly as he turned away to undress, though whether in exasperation or amusement she couldn't tell. Auriana knew he had been meeting with a number of the city's merchant guilds that morning, and he had more than dressed the part. While he was not the sort of man who particularly cared about his appearance, he certainly scrubbed up well when necessary, and Auriana subconsciously leant forwards in eagerness as he removed his well-made brocade overcoat to reveal a crisp white shirt beneath.

She watched on in silent admiration as Varian divested himself of the rest of his finery, until he was wearing naught but a pair of loose, dark brown trousers. The late afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window clearly illuminated the hard, well-cut planes of his bare chest, and Auriana felt her breath quicken as he finally came close and rested his large hands tenderly on the curve of her hips.

"So," Varian said seriously, his dark blue eyes boring into Auriana's own. "Why did you need to change?

"I… ah… wrestled a magma elemental," she mumbled, staring down at her feet.

"Of course you did," Varian sighed, kissing her softly on the forehead. "I'm assuming you won?"

"More or less," Auriana admitted, leaning back against the dresser. "Though I'm pretty sure I'll be cleaning mud out of my boots for weeks. I ended up taking an unexpected swim in Loch Modan… which is why I came here, actually…"

Varian nodded by way of reply, though Auriana got the distinct impression that he was no longer giving her words his full attention. There was a subtle shift in the energy between them as his eyes roamed unashamedly down her body, and he made his intentions perfectly clear a second later as he slid his hands upwards to gently stroke the lower curve of her breasts.

"Varian?" she murmured, both flattered and somewhat confused by the suddenness of his amorous attentions.

There was no denying that the King of Stormwind was a passionate, red-blooded man by nature, though Auriana had rarely seen him look quite so  _intent_. His gaze was so hot that Auriana thought she might spontaneously combust, and she slowly began to melt beneath his expert touch.

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?" she wondered, her breath hitching inadvertently as his calloused thumb swept up to gently graze her left nipple. "You… you're looking at me the way a wolf looks at a particularly tasty lamb."

"Is that a problem? This is hardly the first time I've looked at you with desire," Varian pointed out.

"No… but this is… different," she mumbled, though she was unable to put her finger precisely on  _what_  it was.

Auriana found it difficult to remain focused as Varian leaned forwards and pressed his lips against her neck; the sudden warmth of his mouth kindling a fire in deep in her belly and making her legs go weak. She arched her back, desperate to get close to him as possible, when realisation hit her like a bolt of lightning.

"Wait a minute…" she whispered. "It's the  _tunic._ "

Varian abruptly pulled back, and his ears went bright red as he stared down at her with an otherwise unreadable expression.

"If it were?" he asked, his voice sounding oddly strained.

"I don't know," she said shyly. "I mean… this isn't some kind of… alpha male… possession thing, is it?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly.

"Varian…" she drawled, raising her eyebrows.

"Alright…" he conceded, looking anywhere but at her face. "It might be. What do you want me to say? l... like it, is all."

"You don't need to say anything," she assured him. "I…"

Auriana trailed off, and her shoulders began to shake as she utterly dissolved into a fit of giggles. She could not have said  _why_  she was laughing, only that the sudden urge to do so was uncontrollable. For some reason, Varian's intimidating scowl made it even worse, and within moments she was all but hysterical.

"What's so funny?" he glowered, looking thoroughly nonplussed.

"I don't know," Auriana gasped, trying and spectacularly failing to contain her laughter.

"Stop it," Varian ordered.

"I'm… s-sorry," she choked, "I'm tr-trying…"

It was true, though she could forgive Varian for thinking she was lying. Her entire body was trembling with unexpected mirth, and she was sure her face was bright red. Varian, of course, remained stone faced, though Auriana thought she might have seen a sly glint in the corner of his eye.

"I  _said_ …" he growled, abruptly grasping her by the waist and lifting her so that she was perched on the edge of the dresser, "Stop laughing."

He slipped his hands into Auriana's damp hair and pulled her forcefully into his embrace, kissing her with such passion that she thought her heart might have stopped. His hands slid wantonly up her bare thighs, bunching the rough linen of the tunic around her hips, and she instinctively spread her legs wider before him. Her laughter vanished in an instant, to be replaced immediately by a breathless, fast-burning desire, and she reached out to gently trace the hard lines of his chest with her fingers.

In the time since she had returned from Draenor, Auriana had come to know Varian's body almost as well as she knew her own, and she had found her own confidence blossoming with every encounter. Where she had at first deferred to Varian's superior experience and self-assuredness, she had ever so slowly begun to explore her own powers of sensuality. Outside his chambers, Varian may have been the authoritative and indomitable King of Stormwind, but in here, he was all  _hers_ , and he was powerless to resist her trembling touch.

Auriana smiled inwardly to herself as Varian deepened their kiss, and she moved to brazenly slip the leather laces of his trousers. He inhaled sharply as her fingertips brushed the length of his arousal, and he murmured something incomprehensible against her lips. Encouraged, Auriana began to slowly slide her hand up and down Varian's hardened shaft, and was immediately rewarded as he shuddered and let out a long, shaky sigh.

He closed his eyes and leant heavily into her hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she slowly and deliberately worked him into a state of lustful delirium. His weight kept her pinned hard against the dresser, but Auriana wouldn't have wanted to escape for all the world. She loved to watch him when he was like this; loved to see his walls come crashing down as he surrendered to her completely.

"Ah… Auri…" Varian groaned throatily, "If you… if you keep that up, you know I'm going to…"

He trailed off, throwing his head back with a lupine snarl and tightening his grip on her thighs. He was holding her so tightly that Auriana knew her pale skin would undoubtedly bruise, but she didn't care in the slightest. There was something incredibly wild and heady about bringing such a dangerous, powerful man to the very edge of control, and Auriana very much wanted to hear him cry her name as she pushed him to the brink.

"Isn't that rather the point of the endeavour?" she whispered archly.

A teasing smile spread across Auriana's face as she increased her pace, though Varian seemed to have ideas of his own. In one smooth movement, he snared both of her wrists and pinned them against the wall above her head, while using his other hand to slide her hips toward him. Auriana put up a token resistance, though she knew that nothing on Azeroth could stop the King of Stormwind from taking something that he truly wanted.

"No," he snarled, his eyes black with wolfish hunger. "Not until I've had you."

Varian slipped two long fingers between her thighs, carefully probing her readiness, before plunging himself deep into her willing sex. Auriana gasped as her body was flooded with sudden heat, and she trembled fiercely at the wave of pleasure that rolled through her from head to toe. No matter how many times they had made love, she didn't think she would ever get used to the first exquisite moment of having Varian's length inside her. He made her feel impossibly warm and full, and Auriana was suddenly very glad for the wooden dresser beneath her rear. Her legs were quivering uncontrollably, and if not for the dresser taking her weight, she would have utterly collapsed the second he had slipped inside her.

Varian, too, seemed similarly affected by the power of their first joining, and he reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall.

"Auri…" he murmured huskily, his shaking breath warm against her cheek. " _Light_ , woman, do you have any idea how you make me  _feel_?"

He released her hands so that he might better leverage her hips, and took up a slow but powerful rhythm. The wooden dresser creaked in protest with every forceful thrust of his hips, but Auriana paid it little mind. She knew Varian would never let her fall, and she had long since learned that he didn't care how many items of furniture he destroyed, so long as he left her breathless and satisfied.

Auriana leaned forwards and wrapped her arms around Varian's shoulders, revelling in the way the powerful muscles of his back tensed and shifted beneath her hands. He was so damn  _big_ , and yet somehow, they fit together as if by design. She was not, however, in the mood to go slow, and she pushed back against Varian in such a way that she knew would drive him wild. After her failure in the Loch, Auriana wanted not just to be loved, but  _needed,_  and she knew that the quickest way to fulfil her desires was to bring her king's wolfish side fully to the fore.

She tightened her inner walls invitingly around Varian's length as he pushed deep inside her once more, and softly cried out his name as the sudden friction threatened to overwhelm them both. Almost immediately, Varian reached down to catch her by the throat with one of his enormous hands, and from the predatory gleam in his eyes, Auriana could tell that he knew exactly what she was doing. Far from being angry, however, he rose to her unspoken challenge with enthusiasm, staring deep into her eyes as he began to slowly but steadily increase his pace.

Auriana shivered eagerly in response, clutching desperately at Varian's back as if it might make him go faster still. The fierce, unrelenting pressure building deep within her core demanded release, though Auriana was determined to take Varian with her. She kissed him hungrily, driving him onwards with both her hips and her hands, and was gratified to feel a now- familiar shiver roll down his spine. Every magnificent muscle in his body was tensed, and Auriana's breath caught in her throat as he finished them both with an impossibly deep thrust. For his part, Varian closed his eyes and growled deep in his chest as his climax finally took him, while Auriana couldn't help but to let out a roar of wanton triumph as she followed tumbling after.

* * *

After Varian had regathered both his wits and his breath, he carefully carried Auriana over to the bed, before laying down beside her. He stretched out and closed his eyes, shifting his weight slightly from side to side as he made himself comfortable. Still in her rumpled tunic, Auriana nestled into his side, and tucked her head into the space made where his arm met his torso. Her body still thrummed from their amorous encounter, and she was driven by an almost primal need to stay close to him.

Luckily, Varian seemed all too happy to oblige, and he wrapped an arm protectively around her shoulders. He was always uncharacteristically calm and languid after making love, and Auriana found that there were few things she enjoyed more than listening to his mighty heartbeat reverberate throughout her body as they held one another close. The warm silence of the afternoon and the rich, reddish-purple light streaming in through the windows only added to the idyllic moment, and Auriana was able to forget that the rest of the world existed.

Eventually, however, the uncertain thoughts that she had been fighting on and off all day crept back into the forefront of her mind, and she found herself unable to remain relaxed for a second longer.

"Varian…" she murmured tentatively, rolling away from him slightly and folding her arms across her stomach.

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he rumbled.

He propped himself up on his elbows, suddenly alert, and gently reached out to grab Auriana by her backside. He levered her upwards and pulled her over so that she could sit straddling his lap, and gently took her hands in his own.

"What is it?" Varian asked worriedly, clearly sensitive to her sudden tension. "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, nothing like that. I… have you… have you ever frozen in a battle?" she asked quietly, her cheeks reddening in shame.

"Frozen?" he repeated, frowning slightly.

"You know… tensed up, been unable to fight," she explained lamely. "I went to cast a spell against the elemental today, and… nothing happened. It wasn't because I was tired, or weakened, or injured. It was my  _mind_  that failed. I imagined Archimonde, and I… was so frightened I could barely move."

"I thought you said you were unharmed," Varian said, his mouth drawing into a thin line.

"I am," she assured him, squeezing his big hands tightly. "A little bruised, maybe, but that's not what worries me. Has it ever happened to you?"

"Not me, personally…" he said slowly, "But I've seen it happen."

He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and gave her the kind of look that made her believe he could see into her very soul.

"It doesn't make you weak," he said firmly.

"But…"

"No. You listen to me, Auriana," he growled. "You can't go through the kind of things you went through on Draenor without consequences. No one can - not you, not me, not  _anyone_."

"It was the first time I'd been in a proper fight since I got home," Auriana muttered. "I was feeling good… confident, even. I thought I was back to full strength, I thought I could start putting Draenor behind me…"

"You were betrayed… tortured…" he said quietly. "You… you nearly  _died,_ Light knows how many times… it's going to take more than a month to recover."

"You've been through just as much as I have in your life," she countered, biting her lip in agitation. "More, even, and you never seem to falter. Hell, you're Varian Wrynn. I'm not sure you know  _how_  to fail."

"Oh, how I wish that were true," Varian said bitterly, his dark blue eyes growing stormy.

He pushed himself upright, so that they were now sitting face to face, and pulled her into his arms. Auriana could feel the tension in his muscles, despite how gently he cradled her, and she instantly regretted having ruined a perfectly lovely afternoon with her insecurities. Varian, however, offered her no judgement, instead resting his chin on the top of her head with a soft sigh.

"Believe it or not, but I know how you feel. I may never have frozen on the field of battle, but l certainly have nightmares," he confessed, murmuring the words into the tangles of her dark hair.

"Really?" she asked, surprised and somewhat taken aback by the revelation. "I… I never noticed."

"Auriana, I'm not sure anyone has ever told you this, but you sleep like the dead," he growled drily. "A second Cataclysm could happen outside and I'm not entirely sure you'd wake."

"I… I didn't realise it was that bad…" she said, blushing furiously.

Varian barked out a single laugh, and shook his head wryly.

"Lucky for you, I happen to find it endearing," he added quickly. "If somewhat impractical."

"What do you dream about, then?" she asked quietly. "When you have nightmares, I mean..."

Varian considered the question thoughtfully, and for a moment, Auriana genuinely believed he would refuse to answer. He was not an especially talkative man, even at the best of times, and he was even less loquacious when it came to talking about his feelings. Of course, Auriana could hardly blame him, when she herself was much the same, but she hoped he might tell her more.

"It changes," he said slowly, his deep voice unnaturally quiet. "Sometimes I dream of the past. I dream I'm fighting for my life in Dire Maul, or watching my father's murder. Sometimes… I… I dream of Tiffin…"

Varian trailed off sadly, and Auriana went very, very still. From the sudden rigidity of his shoulders, she could tell that the admission had cost him greatly, and she had no wish to do or say the wrong thing. Tiffin was one of the few topics that they avoided discussing under any circumstances, and Auriana was rather shocked that Varian had offered up information of his own accord. It would have been very easy for him to lie, or omit his dead wife's name from the list, and she was humbled by his willingness to appear so vulnerable before her.

"Other times I dream of things that haven't happened," Varian continued heavily, shaking himself out of his momentary reverie. "I might dream of losing Anduin, or seeing Stormwind fall, and myself powerless to stop it… Mostly, however… I see you."

"Me?" Auriana asked, still

"You," he confirmed broodingly. "Dead, or dying. The nightmares used to be infrequent, but after I rescued you from the Foundry…"

Varian shuddered involuntarily, and grasped Auriana so tightly that it hurt.

"I can still remember everything about that night… I thought I was going to lose you, and we'd barely just begun," he said darkly. "My dreams were worse after that. I think it was because I realised just how much I now had to lose."

"Why didn't you say something?" Auriana wondered. "If you can't sleep, you should wake me..."

She gently extricated herself from his crushing grip, both so that she could look him in the eye and catch her breath, and frowned up at him with a wary expression.

"The same reason  _you_  never tell me anything, I suspect," he shrugged. "We're too much alike in some ways. We both fear appearing... weak."

Auriana nodded, knowing that there was a lot of truth in his words. It was a problem she'd struggled with her entire life, and although she knew she had improved dramatically since meeting Varian, she still had a long way to go.

"Is there anything I can do to make it better?" she asked worriedly. "I don't ever want to cause you pain, even in a dream…"

"Please don't do that," Varian said quietly, reaching out to caress her cheek. "It isn't your fault, and you bring far more joy to my life than sadness. You've no idea how much…"

He frowned as he struggled and failed to find the right words, only to eventually give up with a shake of his head.

"Well," he said stiffly. "Enough of this maudlin talk, in any case. My point is - you're here, you're safe, and you're  _mine_. And you're certainly  _not_  weak, no matter how you might feel right now. You just need to give yourself time."

Varian stared at her intently until she nodded, though she was still not entirely reassured. As he had said, however, they had talked long enough, and she did not want to dwell on her failures any longer than she already had.

"Besides," he added, giving her a small, encouraging smile, "I have plenty of  _good_  dreams about you, too."

"Really?" Auriana asked, her ears burning suddenly hot. "What... what kind of good dreams?"

"I can show you better than I can tell you," he growled roguishly, rolling her gently onto her back and kissing her deeply. "And perhaps you might just give me even more fresh inspiration than you already have..."


	4. Varian

It was a rare pleasure to have Auriana all to himself for an afternoon, and Varian took full advantage of her unexpected presence. He couldn't have really said why, but there was something incredibly arousing about returning to his rooms to find his woman damp-haired and bare-skinned beneath one of his oversized tunics. She had looked innocent and raw and incredibly inviting, and he had taken great pleasure in showing her  _exactly_ how much he had appreciated her company.

Eventually, however, the sky outside had darkened as night fell upon the city of Stormwind, and he had been forced to reluctantly allow Auriana to depart and find some proper clothes, before she returned to meet Varian and Anduin in the former's private dining room. Varian knew full well that he had been pushing Auriana and Anduin together a bit of late, but he was anxious to see them get along. He was very aware that Anduin might have some trouble adjusting to seeing his father so openly with another woman, and he had resolved to do anything in his power to make the boy feel as comfortable as possible. He also knew that Auriana was nervous about Anduin's reaction to their relationship, though she had rarely said so out loud, and he hoped that regular contact would put them both at ease.

To that end, Varian had insisted on inviting Auriana to dinner whenever she was not away in Dalaran. Unless required by some affair of state, Varian preferred to dine alone or with Anduin in his private rooms. His dark, oak-lined dining chamber was perfect for quiet, private dinners, and he had thought it a good opportunity for Auriana and Anduin to get to know one another on a more personal level.

Varian typically said little during these meals, preferring to simply sip his drink while Auriana and Anduin talked the night away. Anduin had a unique ability to bring out Auriana's softer, more mischievous side, and Varian had sincerely enjoyed watching her learn to let her guard down. It seemed as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders since she had returned from Draenor, and she had appeared to grow more relaxed and confident with every visit.

Tonight, however, she was a bit more subdued than usual, though she responded to Anduin's endless stream of chatter cheerfully enough. Varian supposed she was still unsettled by her near miss with the elemental that morning, and he kept a careful eye on her as she ate. Fortunately, as the meal wore on, Anduin's infectious enthusiasm began to take hold, and by the time the servants had cleared the last of the plates away, she had regained some of her natural spirit.

"Can I get you both another drink?" the prince asked, standing and making his way over to Varian's private bar during a brief lull in the conversation.

"I'll have another cider, if you don't mind," Varian requested, tapping a hand against his empty flagon.

"Surprise me," Auriana added, smiling softly. "Cider, wine, spirits… just no…"

"Kungaloosh?" Anduin chimed in, finishing the now familiar refrain.

"Am I really that predictable?" Auriana said, blushing and wrinkling her nose.

"You are when it comes to drinks," Anduin informed her, returning to the table with three glasses of clear, crisp cider.

"You know, I've always wondered why you're so averse to kungaloosh," Varian said, leaning forward and resting his fingers on the table. "What did you  _do_?"

"I… um… well, it's not really a story I would want to tell in front of…" Auriana started, glancing shyly at Anduin as she trailed off.

"Because you think I'm too young, or because I'm his son?" Anduin asked, nodding his head slightly toward Varian.

"Ah… both?" Auriana said, squirming uncomfortably beneath the power of the prince's stare. "I'm not sure I…"

"Please?" Anduin interrupted beseechingly, giving her his most winning smile.

Varian snorted, and quickly hid an amused smirk behind his hand. He had been on the receiving end of that look many times, and even at his most stoic he found it hard to resist. Auriana, too, seemed to be having difficulty; torn equally between her embarrassment and her obvious desire to make a good impression on Anduin. Her eyes flicked briefly in Varian's direction, and she sighed.

"Alright, alright! As long as you stop looking at me like that. And you must understand, I was young," she said, a slight note of pleading entering her voice.

"How young?" Anduin asked interestedly.

"Twenty? Twenty-one, maybe?" Auriana shrugged. "I can't remember the exact year. In any case, it was during the war in Northrend. As you know, fighting on multiple fronts had severely depleted the ranks of the Kirin Tor, and mages don't exactly grow on trees."

Anduin cocked his head to the side with a thoughtful grin, and Varian wondered if he were picturing mages hanging like ripe fruit from actual trees.

"There were a lot of young apprentices in the city, called up for service before our time. We were all eager to do our part, but the war was harder than any of us expected. We were always tired, always afraid… never sure when we'd get dragged out of Dalaran to fight in Coldarra or Icecrown…" Auriana continued, frowning slightly. "So, one night, a dozen of us decided to blow off some steam."

"With kungaloosh," Anduin supplied.

"Yes. A gnome named Filliwick Blastcog managed to get his hands entire case of the stuff – though I have absolutely no idea how – and we shared it amongst the group," she said, smiling slightly. "Now, I'm the daughter of a sailor, and despite my size, I can hold my liquor. Or… at least I thought I could."

"You got drunk?"

"Outrageously so," she admitted. "By the time midnight came around, most of us could barely stand. We were about to return to our rooms to sleep, when one of the older mages suggested that we fight some duels."

"Ah, alcohol and magic," Varian said drily. "A winning combination if there ever was one…"

"See, you say that, but at the time, we all thought it was a  _brilliant_  idea," Auriana said, grinning impishly. "Especially once my friend Colter proposed a betting system of sorts. If you lost your duel, you had to complete a dare set by the victor."

"A dare?" Anduin asked eagerly.

"You know the sort of thing… you have to shout something stupid or salacious as loudly as you can, or go knock on the door of an Archmage while they're sleeping," Auriana elaborated. "My good friend Darion lost to a high elf named Laethella, and she dared him not to move while she shot him in the backside with a frostbolt."

She smiled fondly, and Varian felt a strange heaviness settle in his stomach at the sound of Darion's name, even though he knew their relationship had never progressed beyond that of simple friendship. It was patently ridiculous, of course, being jealous of a dead man, but the thought of Auriana with  _anyone_  else filled him with a kind of irresistible, protective fury. Fortunately, she seemed not to have noticed his consternation, and she quickly continued with her tale.

"Now… as luck would have it, Colter and I ended up paired," she explained. "Normally, I would have beaten him easily, but I was… impaired. Long story short, I lost – but not until  _after_  I'd shot myself in the foot with a fireball."

"How did you manage  _that_?" Anduin giggled, clearly having trouble picturing Auriana as anything other than the confident, consummate mage she was today.

"Kungaloosh," she said, shrugging.

"What was your dare?"

"Well, Colter was a bit of a lech. An amiable one, but a lech nonetheless," Auriana said. "He dared me to run to Krasus' Landing and back."

She bit her lip, and suddenly looked as if she wanted to disappear below the table and have the floor swallow her whole.

"Naked," she added quietly, with a long sigh.

" _No_ ," Anduin breathed. "You didn't. Did you?"

"Kungaloosh," she repeated, her ears going bright red. "And… you know me, I'm not good at turning down a challenge. Everyone else had completed  _their_ dares, I wasn't going to be the weak link."

"So…"

"So… I stripped down and took off running as fast as I could," she said, not quite meeting Anduin's eyes. "It was  _freezing_ , and I didn't want to get caught by the guards. I made it to the Landing without too much trouble, but on my return journey I – quite literally - ran into someone  _much_  worse."

"Aunt Jaina?" Anduin wondered.

"I wish," Auriana said, wincing slightly. "It was Archmage Rhonin."

Anduin clapped a hand over his mouth in delighted horror, and even Varian had to smile. The thought of a young, drunken Auriana colliding with the red-haired former master of Dalaran, in all her naked glory, was admittedly very funny, and he rather wished he'd been there to witness the event.

"What did you  _do_?" Anduin said, his voice a hushed whisper.

"Naturally, I panicked," she said, shaking her head. "I tried to open a portal to  _anywhere_  else in the city, but I was nowhere near cogent enough to cast that kind of magic. I hurt myself so badly that I ended up in the infirmary for a week."

She grinned shyly, and ran a rueful hand through her hair.

"Is that good enough of a reason not to want to drink any more kungaloosh in my life?"

"Very much so," Anduin agreed quickly. "I can hardly believe you  _did_  that… it doesn't seem at all like you. Well, the fighting does, but…"

"I've been known to be fun, upon occasion," Auriana said drily, rolling her eyes. "But… as I said, I was young. I was… me before Deathwing, before Theramore. And I really was  _breathtakingly_ drunk."

She hesitantly lifted her gaze to meet Anduin's, and they stared at one another for a long moment before both burst out laughing. Varian, too, smiled broadly, though it was more from the pleasure of seeing his son and the woman he loved getting along so famously. He had sorely missed the warmth and camaraderie afforded by simple, regular family dinners, though he hadn't realised how much until that very moment.

"Though… I suppose  _one_  good thing came of that night, at least," Auriana mused, as her shaking giggles finally subsided.

"How do you mean?" Anduin asked.

"I never lost a duel again," she said, shooting Varian a sly, sideways grin.

He returned her smile, and lifted his glass slightly in a mock toast. Her blue eyes sparkled with good humour, and she no longer looked quite so mortified to have told Anduin her story.

"As good a motivation as any. What happened to your friends?" Anduin enquired curiously. "Colter and Filliwick and the others. Did they ever drink kungaloosh again, or did they swear off it for life, like you?"

Auriana jerked her head strangely, and a sombre shadow passed across her face.

"I wouldn't know, actually. They're dead," she said quietly. "Most of them never made it home from Northrend. Those who did… well, they either died in the Cataclysm, or later on when Theramore fell. Of everyone who was there that night… I'm the only one left."

Anduin's face fell, and the sense of warmth and good cheer that had filled the room abruptly vanished.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to…"

"There's no need to apologise," Auriana assured him, though her haunted eyes told a rather different story. "You fight in as many wars as I have, you're bound to lose a few people along the way. It's an old hurt, and one I learned to live with a long time ago."

Anduin nodded, though he still looked horribly embarrassed to have reminded Auriana of her painful past. Varian, of course, had been entirely unsurprised to hear that Auriana's friends had become casualties of one of Azeroth's many wars, but Anduin was not nearly as worldly or battle-hardened, and he had clearly taken the revelation hard.

"I… um… it's getting late," the prince said awkwardly, rising slowly to his feet. "I should leave you two in peace for the night."

"Please don't leave on my account," Auriana said anxiously, knotting her fingers in her lap. "I'm glad I told the story. It means I'm not the only one who remembers them."

"Well, it's definitely not a tale I'll forget any time soon," Anduin agreed, his expression brightening ever so slightly.

"I suppose I ought to be glad that you find my antics amusing," Auriana said wryly. "Rhonin certainly didn't."

She reached out to catch his hand, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Her blue eyes were very large and very bright, and she leaned towards him with great earnest.

"I'm fine. Really," she promised.

Anduin looked down at her hand with a tentative smile, and the sudden tension in the room slowly began to dissipate.

"As long as you're sure. I really didn't mean to cause you any grief," he said, gently freeing himself from her grasp. "Though it really  _is_ getting late, and we've got a busy day ahead. I'll see you both tomorrow morning?"

Anduin spoke innocently enough, but the simple statement made Varian suddenly stiffen. He had been keeping something of a secret from Auriana of late, and had hoped to talk to her about the matter in private. Tyrande Whisperwind and Malfurion Stormrage would be visiting city over the next week, ostensibly under the guise of renegotiating some of the trade agreements between Stormwind and Darnassus. Unofficially, however, Varian knew they were genuinely curious to meet Auriana, and gain her measure for themselves. He had been an unrepentant bachelor for a long time, and while he knew that the night elves' interest had a relevant political angle, he also understood than many of his allies were unashamedly curious about the woman who had managed to bring Varian Wrynn out of his self-imposed isolation. Of course, he hadn't counted on Anduin putting his foot in it, and realised he would have to have the sensitive conversation sooner rather than later.

"Tomorrow morning?" Auriana asked slowly, looking between Anduin and Varian with great interest. "What's tomorrow morning?

Anduin's eyes flashed, and he rounded on Varian in genuine surprise.

"You didn't tell her?"

"No," Varian growled. "I  _had_  intended to address the matter later this evening."

Anduin didn't reply, but it was clear from his posture that he disagreed with Varian's decision to delay telling Auriana. In truth, Varian himself wasn't entirely sure why he had equivocated for as long as he had, only that he was concerned about frightening Auriana away. It had only been a month since she had publicly embraced their relationship at the Draenor victory parade, and part of him was still afraid that she would simply vanish if he pushed her too hard, too soon.

"What are you two talking about?" Auriana said, her expression caught somewhere between curiosity and suspicion.

Varian sighed.

"Tyrande, Malfurion, and a delegation of night elves are arriving tomorrow to discuss trade and some issues regarding the Gilnean presence in Darnassus…" he said slowly. "And… so that I might present you to them."

Auriana instantly went rigid, and the temperature in the room suddenly felt as if it had fallen several degrees. Varian had expected that she would be upset with him, though even he was surprised by the sudden fury that had kindled in her eyes.

" _Present_  me?" she repeated coldly. "You make it sound like I'm a new painting, or a trophy on your wall."

"Don't be ridiculous, you know I don't think of you as some sort of prize to be won," Varian snapped, instinctively responding to her anger with fire of his own. "But you  _are_  my consort, and I  _am_  the High King. That puts you in a position of power, and the other leaders of the Alliance are keen to meet you for themselves. It is important to obtain their approval."

He regretted his phrasing the moment the words left his mouth, but there was no taking it back now. Auriana's jaw clenched so tightly that he could actually hear her teeth grinding, and she tucked her hands beneath the table so that he couldn't see them shaking. Meanwhile, Anduin looked like a frozen deer, caught halfway between the table and the door, and unsure whether he should attempt to run for his life.

"I see," Auriana said flatly. "And what if they don't  _approve_ of me? Does that change how you feel?"

"I didn't… you know what I meant," Varian growled in protest, raking an agitated hand through his hair.

"I'm not sure I do," Auriana retorted, rising slowly to her feet. "You either need their approval or you don't, Varian, which is it?"

"You are well aware of how much I care for you," he snarled fiercely, copying her movement and leaning forward across the table between them. "But as you yourself have said countless times – I'm a king. My actions have  _consequences_. As much as I would like to do what I want, when I want, I do have to consider the opinions of my allies."

"Even when it comes to me?" Auriana demanded, her eyes blazing.

The colour was high in her cheeks, and Varian very much wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. He understood why she was upset, given his own less-than-adequate attempts to explain the situation, but on the other hand he was frankly insulted that she thought he could be so easily influenced.

"Let me be clear," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I respect my allies, but that doesn't mean their poor opinion of you would ever change anything about how  _I_ feel."

"Then why wait until the last minute to tell me? Trade delegations aren't thrown together in a day, Varian, you  _must_  have known for weeks," she said sharply. "Are you… are you ashamed of me?"

A shadow of fear flickered across her face, only to disappear almost as quickly as it had appeared.

" _What_?" Varian exclaimed. "Of course not. You're being wilfully disagreeable, Auriana, you know that's not even close to what I'm saying."

"But you are concerned," she pushed. "You would have told me otherwise."

"Perhaps because I knew you'd react like this!" he snapped, slamming his fist down on the table.

Out of the corner of his eye, Varian saw Anduin jump in surprise, and he only belatedly realised that his son was still watching the entire debacle unfold. He flushed, wishing that he'd been able to speak to Auriana privately, but also knowing that there was little chance of stopping the argument now. Auriana had her blood well up, and she was looking at Varian the way she tended to look at troublesome orcs.

"Oh,  _please_ , Varian. Tell me – how  _should_  I react to an invitation to be paraded around for the judgement of elves?" she demanded, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You forget yourself," he growled, stepping around the table so that they were standing mere inches apart. "I am still your king."

Anduin's eyes widened in alarm, and he made a silent, frantic slashing gesture across his own throat. His eyes were fixed on Varian, his expression almost pleading, but Varian didn't particularly care. He attention had been entirely consumed by Auriana, who had lurched violently backwards as if she had been slapped in the face.

"No," she hissed, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "You do  _not_  get to play that card whenever it's convenient. I'm my own person, Varian, and I will  _not_  be a pawn in your politicking."

Without waiting for him to reply, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the door. Her skirts swirled tumultuously around her ankles as she fled, moving so quickly as to evade even Varian's preternatural reflexes.

"Auri…!" he shouted, lunging forward after her and missing her arm by inches.

Varian's heavy chamber door slammed shut in his face, and he slapped a hand against the wood in frustration. He let out a low, wordless growl, and ran a hand wearily across his eyes. For a long moment, he stood silence, trying to calm the agitated beating of his heart, when his dark reverie was suddenly interrupted by several loud, sarcastic claps.

"Oh, well done," Anduin said drily. "That was spectacular, Father, really."

Varian whirled on his son, surprised that Anduin would so boldly call him to account. Anduin had never been afraid to speak his mind, of course, even from a young age, but he had rarely addressed Varian with such confidence – or such impudence.

"Ha, ha," he snarled, stalking over to the liquor cabinet and pouring himself an overgenerous whiskey. "I suppose you could have done better? What with your  _vast_ experience with women, and all."

Anduin rolled his eyes ever so slightly, but his tone was patient and calm as he spoke.

"Father, I'm pretty sure a rabid gnoll could have handled that more delicately than you just did," he muttered quietly, folding his arms across his chest.

"She overreacted," Varian said hotly, downing his entire shot in a single swallow and slamming the glass back down against the bar.

"Yes, she did, but that doesn't mean you were in the right," Anduin said gently. "You kept secrets from her, and then you suggested that she had to earn the right to be with you from your allies. Even  _I_  know that's a bad idea, especially with a woman like Auriana."

Varian grunted vaguely in response, knowing that he didn't have a real answer. He  _had_  handled the situation poorly, though Auriana's reaction had been a great deal more heated than he had expected.

"Besides," Anduin added. "She's bound to be a bit sensitive at the moment, what with the rumours and all."

"Rumours?" Varian repeated, frowning heavily. "What are you talking about?"

"She didn't tell you?"

"Of course she didn't," Varian muttered. "You do realise we're talking about a woman who would deny there was a bear biting her leg off  _as it was happening,_ so as not to appear burdensome."

Anduin flushed, and he suddenly seemed very reluctant to keep talking.

"Anduin…" Varian said warningly.

"You know how it is, Father, the nobility gossip like a pack of old women," Anduin explained quietly. "From their perspective… she's shown up out of nowhere, and suddenly she's bedding the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom. It seems… suspicious."

" _Suspicious_? It isn't like that at all!" Varian protested angrily. "My feelings for her are sincere."

"I know that," Anduin said quickly, as if Varian might turn on  _him_ at any moment. " _You_ know that. Certainly, anyone who has seen you two together her knows that, but… as far as a lot of people in the city are concerned, the only way this makes sense is if she's pregnant, or has somehow coerced you, or she's just a… w-whore."

He blushed slightly at the word, and shrugged helplessly. For his part, Varian seethed with sudden rage, and he didn't realise he was crushing the edge of the wooden bar until he heard it crack beneath his mighty hands.

"How... how do you know all this, anyway?" he asked, stepping back and folding his arms across his barrel chest. "Did Auriana tell you?"

"No, of course not," Anduin said, shaking his head ruefully. "I've just heard whispers around the Keep."

"Why haven't I heard these things?"

"I doubt there's anyone in this kingdom brave enough to insult her  _to your face_ ," Anduin pointed out, "But people don't fear my wrath anywhere near as much as they fear yours. I'm not even sure I  _have_  wrath. Not to mention my presence is a great deal subtler."

"Hmph," Varian growled darkly. "I suppose, then, she's started to take these whispers to heart."

"Can you blame her?" Anduin wondered. "It's a hard thing to ignore. And then to have you start talking about approval, of all things…"

"Dammit," Varian swore, realising how much Auriana's sudden anger made sense – and how much his words must have hurt her. "I…"

"I know," Anduin assured him, with a sad, sympathetic smile. "You didn't know. But now that you do, you need to fix this."

He lingered briefly, his blue eyes sweeping carefully over Varian's face, before he turned and made his way towards the door.

"You and she are both fire, Father," he added quietly. "Take care not to burn one another."

Varian stood in silent contemplation as he watched Anduin leave and close the door gently behind him. In sharp contrast to the perfect stillness of his posture, Varian's mind was a veritable storm of turmoil, and he struggled to keep his thoughts in order. He was angry at Auriana, both for her quick temper and for failing to come to him in her time of need; at Anduin, for always being so frustratingly  _wise_ ; angry at every damn noble who had ever lived – though mostly he was angry at himself. Varian had promised himself,  _sworn_  that he would protect Auriana from any harm that might come her way, only to realise that tonight  _he_  had been the greatest source of her pain.

He remained unmoving for the better part of two hours, before finally making to retire to his lonely bed. Auriana would have no doubt returned to Dalaran, and based on past experience, he expected it would probably be several days before she had cooled enough to come to him. With a frustrated sigh, he left his parlour and stomped off towards his bedchambers, only to immediately realise that the door to his balcony was wide open.

"Auri?"

There was no one else it could possibly be, but Varian was still rather shocked to see her resting up against the palisade, the soft night breeze playing with her long hair. Somehow, she had teleported back to his chambers and slipped past him, and was now waiting solemnly and silently on his balcony, her pale silver nightgown clinging to every slender curve. She always looked particularly beautiful in the moonlight, and tonight was no exception. Nevertheless, tension was still written in every line of her body, and she pointedly avoided meeting Varian's eyes as he approached.

"You're here," he murmured disbelievingly. "I thought you would have returned to Dalaran."

"I did," she said, her voice formal and cold. "But… I promised you recently that I would stop running away from you. From us. I don't like breaking promises"

Varian nodded, leaning his long frame up against the ledge beside her. He was very careful not to stand too close, lest she take offense at his forwardness, and they stood in uncomfortable silence for a long moment before he finally spoke.

"I… I apologise," he said stiffly.

"I doubt you do  _that_ very often," Auriana quipped harshly, still staring determinedly out over Stormwind.

"No," Varian rumbled, biting back a flash of irritation. "I don't. I would hope, then, that you would appreciate my sincerity in this matter."

Auriana turned her head away, and a great shiver rolled down her spine as she hugged her arms tight around her body. It was now clear to Varian that her anger had been nothing but a mask to hide her considerable hurt, and his stomach twisted guiltily.

"Anduin tells me there have been some rumours circling the Keep," he said slowly. "Rumours about you."

"He  _knows_?" Auriana murmured unhappily, more to herself than Varian.

"I didn't tell you about the night elves because I thought you might be nervous. I thought to prevent you from dwelling overmuch. I expressed myself poorly… though I understand now why you reacted to me as you did," he said gently, placing a tentative hand on the small of her back. "What I don't understand, however, is why you didn't tell me what was happening."

"Because it isn't your problem," she muttered, twisting so she stood out of his reach.

"Auri…" he sighed. "That's not how this works. I  _want_  your problems, all of them. You're mine. That makes your problems mine, too."

"Are you sure?" she said, frowning. "At dinner, you seemed to make it perfectly clear that I should treat you as my king, and not as my… whatever we are."

Varian flinched at her words, though he knew the criticism was not unjustified. He was a man used to getting his way, a man used to  _winning_ , and in his anger he had forgotten that Auriana was not an opponent to be defeated, but rather the woman that he loved.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," she added painfully, "But… I can't believe you said that, Varian. Out there? In the Keep, in the city, on the battlefield… of course you're my king. But in here, when it's just us… I should be your equal."

"I know. I swear to you… you'll never hear anything like that from me again," he assured her seriously, reaching out to turn her face upwards towards his. "It's no excuse, but I've been a king for a long time… I've been  _alone_  for a long time… you might have to be patient with me."

Auriana regarded him carefully for a long while, before she finally nodded and hesitantly leant the weight of her cheek into his palm. Her expression softened, and the blazing fire in her eyes faded away to embers.

"I've never been in a proper relationship," she said quietly. "You might have to be patient with me, too."

Something about her pose suddenly struck Varian as incredibly vulnerable, and in an instant he had pulled her roughly into his arms. Much to his relief, she came willingly, burying her face against his chest and knotting her fingers into the soft cotton of his shirt.

"I won't stand for these rumours," he promised her heatedly, murmuring the words into the tangles of her hair. "I will stop them, whatever it takes."

"You can't stop people from talking," Auriana countered sagely. "What would you do? You're not Garrosh Hellscream, making an entire city afraid to talk out of fear for their lives."

"I could be," Varian growled, "If it meant protecting you."

Auriana smiled faintly, and she reached up to place a small, pale hand on his chest.

"We both know that's not who you are," she murmured. "You're a dangerous man, to be sure, but you have a good heart. You're not a dictator."

Varian reluctantly nodded his agreement, though privately he resolved to wring the neck of  _anyone_  who dared make such foul allegations in front of him.

"Still," he added, "I don't want you listening to these whispers. I want you to feel safe in my Keep. Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"

"I don't know," Auriana said, shrugging her slender shoulders slightly. "But if I think of something, you'll be the first to know."

She shook herself slightly and sighed, before nestling closer into Varian's body.

"So," she said softly. "Tomorrow. I suppose I'll need a dress."

"I hadn't thought of that," Varian admitted. "I'm sure I could find you something on short notice, if necessary."

"You needn't worry, I have several suitable garments in my apartment," she assured him quickly. "I won't let you down."

"I never thought you would," he said seriously, hating that she had ever thought he might feel otherwise.

"I can slip out early," Auriana resolved, "And be back in time for their arrival."

"Very well," Varian agreed, choosing to ignore the slight tremor of nervousness in her voice. "Though… perhaps in future, we can make things easier for you. I had thought you might like to move some of your things in here. It can't be terribly convenient, returning to your apartment or to Dalaran every time you need to change, and it's not as if I don't have the space."

"Really?"

"Of course," he said firmly. "Though… only if you want to..."

Auriana leaned back slightly so that she could look up at him, and it seemed to Varian as if she were studying him for any sign of a lie. Eventually, however, she seemed satisfied, and she gave him a small but genuine smile.

"I'd like that," she murmured, the last vestiges of her fury fading from her body as she finally allowed him to draw her upwards for a deep and heartfelt kiss.


	5. Varian

When Varian arrived in his throne room the next morning, he was greeted by almost the entire Stormwind Court. It had been some time since Tyrande Whisperwind and Malfurion Stormrage had visited the city and their imminent appearance had attracted more than a little curiosity. The room was filled with nearly all the highest-ranking members of the Stormwind nobility – unfortunately including one Lord Rohas Anguile – and all appeared eager to see the legendary night elf leaders for themselves.

The courtiers bowed respectfully as Varian passed, though he was only interested in Anduin and Genn Greymane, who stood on either side of his gleaming throne. Both his son and the worgen king looked their best; Anduin in a smart navy coat and Greymane resplendent in his typical dark charcoal, and they both greeted him with warm smiles. Anduin also gave Varian a questioning look, likely wondering what had happened with Auriana after the previous night, but Varian was not about to have such a conversation in front of what seemed like half the kingdom.

Varian strongly suspected that many of the nobles were here to keep a close eye on Auriana, and he hoped that their obvious interest would not cause her too much alarm. While she had ostensibly forgiven him for concealing the night elves' arrival from her, and had spent the night in his bed, she had been somewhat cold for the rest of the evening. In fact, she had seemed far more akin to the person Varian had first met in Stormshield, rather than the woman he had come to love, and he had found her stiffness concerning. She had left very early in the morning so that she might collect an appropriate dress from Dalaran, though a small, dark part of Varian's mind wondered if she hadn't used her powers simply to flee.

Fortunately, his fears proved unfounded, as he finally caught sight of her slipping gracefully through the crowd towards him. Varian could see from the hardness of her eyes that she was still hurting, though she seemed determined to play her part in the day's formalities. To that end, she had dressed in simple but well-cut gown of periwinkle blue that showed off her slender figure to great effect. She had left her hair loose, allowing it to curl in soft, shining waves down her back, and she had even done something to emphasise the natural bush in her cheeks. In short, she looked soft, elegant, and lovely, and Varian couldn't take his eyes off her as she swept up onto the dais at the foot of the throne.

"Good enough?" she murmured, her gaze fixed straight ahead as she took her place by his side.

"More than good enough," Varian replied, so that only she could hear. "You look beautiful, Auriana."

The hard lines of Auriana's mouth softened slightly at his words, but it did nothing to relieve the tension evident in the rigid set of her shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, Varian saw Anguile sneer slightly at her obvious discomfort, and if not for the fact that they were standing in front of the entire court, he might have given the older man a thrashing. His fingers twitched as he imagined closing them around the smirking noble's throat; imagined seeing the sharp lines of Anguile's face start to turn blue…

Varian was abruptly pulled out of his dark fantasy by the sharp call of the herald's horns, and he forced his hands to still. He straightened up, putting on his best king's face as he waited to receive the night elf delegation. Beside him, Varian heard Auriana's breath hitch nervously, and he wished he could offer her reassurance. Unfortunately, there was not much he could do within the bounds of royal decorum, and he grit his teeth in frustration as he watched the party of a dozen night elves sweep gracefully into his throne room.

Malfurion walked at the head of the group, the bird feathers that lined his arms glinting brightly in the morning sunlight. He may have looked odd to some, with his unique combination of animal and night elf features, but there was no denying the incredible power of his presence. Beside him, Tyrande looked as stunning as always, the pale silk of her robe swirling gently around her ankles as she strode forward with impossible grace. The High Priestess of Elune seemed to Varian as if she were not quite of this world, and she stood before him with an air of cool and untouchable confidence. Certainly, while Malfurion's quiet strength was undeniable, it was clear to Varian, at least, that  _Tyrande_  truly held the balance of power among the night elves.

"Welcome to Stormwind," he said warmly, stepping forwards as the delegation stopped and bowed respectfully before his throne. "I hope your journey was swift and comfortable."

"We were pleased to accept the assistance of your mages in bringing us to Stormwind," Tyrande replied, smiling serenely. "You are most hospitable, High King."

"Your court looks splendid," Malfurion added, peering about the throne room with great interest. "Stormwind is certainly a most prosperous city."

Varian's chest swelled with pride in his home, and he acknowledged Malfurion's praise with a respectful nod.

"You remember Anduin, of course," he added, gesturing to his son, "And Genn Greymane needs no introduction."

"How could we forget? It is a pleasure to see you again, young Prince," Tyrande said, beaming so brightly as to make Anduin blush. "And you, my Lord Greymane. Your wife sends her regards."

Varian glanced sideways at Genn, who accepted Tyrande's greeting with a wistful smile. Mia Greymane had been spending a great deal of time in Darnassus of late, ruling over the large population of Gilnean refugees who had taken up residence in the city after the Cataclysm. While the war in Draenor was over, the kingdoms of the Alliance had to deal with the large numbers of returning soldiers, many of whom were injured. The worgen people needed their leaders, and given that their population was split over two continents, Mia had been compelled to make the journey to Kalimdor. Varian knew better than perhaps anyone else how it felt to be separated from the woman he loved by fathomless miles, and for Genn's sake, Varian hoped Mia would be home soon.

His thoughts turning to Auriana, Varian leaned sideways and beckoned her forwards. Her eyes were impossibly wide, but she stepped towards him with her head held high, and bowed gracefully before Malfurion and Tyrande.

"I'm also honoured to present my consort, Archmage Auriana Fenwild," Varian said.

"We have heard tales of your exploits in Draenor, Archmage," Tyrande said kindly, though there was a slightly critical glint to her eye. "My Sentinels spoke very highly of your command skills."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Auriana said smoothly, the steadiness of her voice belying the distinct essence of unease that Varian could smell upon her skin. "Their efforts were invaluable to the war effort – as were the contributions of your druids and priestesses."

"The kaldorei are proud to fight alongside the humans of Stormwind, and we will always be there should the Alliance call," Malfurion agreed, studying her thoughtfully. "Though I hear you are an unusually  _involved_  commander. You are apparently a force to be reckoned with, if the stories I've heard are true."

"I assure you, the Alliance could ask for no finer soldier," Varian said firmly, staring down at Auriana with great pride. "And the stories are most definitely true. She's very powerful."

"You're both too kind," Auriana murmured, looking thoroughly embarrassed by Varian's effusiveness. "I only wish to do my part to serve my kingdom, and the Alliance."

"I believe defeating Archimonde counts as more than your fair share," Tyrande said wryly.

Auriana ducked her head and gave the High Priestess a tentative smile, which she returned in kind. It was high praise, coming from someone who had fought against the Burning Legion for over ten thousand years, and it made Auriana visibly relax. Varian was pleased to see that she was doing so well, and even more pleased when he glanced sideways to see Lord Anguile making a face like he had been sucking lemons. He was all but certain that the old duke was behind the palace rumours, but without proof there was little he could do except for take small satisifaction wherever he could find it.

Varian lost himself for a second as Auriana and Tyrande made formal small talk, until Malfurion said something that snapped him back to attention.

"I will admit, King Varian, we were surprised to hear that you were courting once more," the archdruid said slowly, though there was no trace of judgement in his words.

"Believe me… no one was more surprised than I," Varian said honestly, his voice low and quiet. "But the love of a good woman can be a transformative thing… as I'm sure you can attest."

Malfurion and Tyrande exchanged a telling look, and somehow managed to fit an entire conversation into one glance. The depth of emotion between them was palpable, and even a man as romantically disinclined as Varian found their obvious devotion moving.

"I agree," Malfurion rumbled. "Today is a day full of surprises, then..."

He smiled slyly, and glanced over his shoulder towards his retinue. In particular, his gaze seemed drawn to a tall, cowled figure standing at the back of the group, who now stepped forward as if summoned. Malfurion nodded, and the hooded night elf withdrew his shroud to reveal a pair of gleaming antlers set above a pair of knowing golden eyes.

"Broll!" Varian exclaimed loudly, unable to hide his pleasure as he strode forward eagerly to greet the towering night elf archdruid.

Broll Bearmantle had been one of Varian's companions as a gladiator in the Crimson Ring, and while they were rarely afforded the opportunity to spend time together, Varian considered the druid one of his closest and most trusted of confidantes. As a high-ranking druid within the Cenarion Circle, Broll's talents were often in great demand, and it made travelling to Stormwind somewhat difficult. What mattered, however, was that he was now  _here_ , and more importantly, that Varian would have an opportunity to introduce one of his few true friends to Auriana.

"Ishnu-alah, Varian," Broll said warmly, clasping Varian tightly by the forearm. "It's very good to see you."

"And you. What are you doing here?" Varian asked. "I thought your work would have kept you in Kalimdor."

"I've been busy, yes," Broll admitted, "But I felt that the situation in Stormwind warranted my attention.

"What are you talking about?" Varian huffed, affronted by the suggestion that there was something wrong with his city. "Stormwind is perfectly secure, there's no…  _situation._ "

"I beg to differ. Varian Wrynn with a woman?" Broll said, arching a long green eyebrow. "That's something I had to see for myself."

He smiled enigmatically, and looked over Varian's shoulder at Auriana. There was a strange gleam in his eyes that Varian didn't quite trust, and he leaned in to whisper to Broll as he stepped past Varian and up onto the dais.

"If you frighten her away, I swear…" Varian muttered, the warning only partially in jest.

Broll pointedly ignored him, and stepped forward to place two broad palms on Auriana's shoulders. She stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, and had to lean back slightly so that she could look Broll in the eye.

"You're a tiny little thing, aren't you?" Broll observed, his expression thoughtful.

"I like to think that what I lack in size I make up for in power," Auriana said coolly, a very slight smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"So I've heard," Broll agreed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Archmage."

"I assure you, Archdruid, the pleasure is all mine," Auriana replied, smiling warmly.

Broll gently released her shoulders and leaned in conspiratorially, though he made sure Varian could hear every word he said.

"I think we'll have to have a talk, you and I," he said, glancing back at Varian with a rather feral grin.

"That can wait," Varian growled, striding forwards to cut the conversation short before Broll could tease him any further. "As my chamberlain so loves to remind me, we have a busy day ahead. Malfurion, Tyrande… if you would be so kind as to follow Greymane there, we have arranged a tour of the city for you and your people."

"Of course, High King," Tyrande acceded warmly. "We look forward to seeing more of Stormwind."

She flowed elegantly after Greymane with Malfurion by her side, and the rest of the night elf retinue followed with similar grace. Before Varian could move, however, Broll claimed Auriana for his own, slipping his arm gallantly through hers and leading her off after the others. She went with him willingly enough, if a bit uncertainly, and Varian was left standing alone with his son as the rest of his court dispersed.

"What do you think he's saying to her?" Anduin asked, clearly trying not to smile.

"I'm not sure I want to know," Varian said drily, folding his arms across his chest.

"Don't worry," Anduin said placatingly. "I'm sure he won't say anything  _too_  bad. He is your friend, after all."

"A friend who apparently delights in tormenting me," Varian glowered. "Much like my dear son."

Anduin barked out a laugh, and placed a conciliatory hand on the back of Varian's shoulder as they walked out of the throne room in the wake the night elf delegation.

"Come now, Father, don't look so glum," he said lightly. "You know you're happy to see him. Your closest friend and the woman you love are finally in the same city… what could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

The rest of the morning disappeared in a whirlwind of formalities, and Varian was glad to finally have the opportunity to escort Malfurion, Tyrande, and Broll back to his private dining room for a more personal afternoon audience. There would be more official events later, of course, but for now he intended to make his guests feel as settled as possible ahead of the long week of formal negotiations. He also much preferred diplomacy on a smaller scale, and while he understood that the extravagant displays of court were sometimes necessary, given the choice he would always prefer a quiet conversation over a glass of whiskey.

Fortunately, it seemed the night elves felt much the same, and they had been more than happy to dismiss their retainers and retire to Varian's private chambers for some afternoon drinks. Anduin quickly monopolised Malfurion's attention with a seemingly endless series of eager questions about druidism, while Greymane and Tyrande struck up a quiet conversation about Mia and the worgen in Darnassus. Broll, unsurprisingly, had stayed close to Auriana, and Varian tried to look as casual as possible as he edged closer to where they sat. He knew he was looming, but between the argument last night and Broll's unusually keen interest, he didn't want Auriana too far from his sight.

Broll acknowledged Varian's presence with a wry glance, but his focus remained firmly on Auriana. He was sitting so close to her that their knees were touching, and he absolutely towered over her as he leaned forwards with a sober expression.

"Now…" he started, "Tell me honestly - is Varian holding you here against your will?"

"What?" she asked, frowning uncertainly. "I don't understand…"

Although Auriana had permitted Broll to act as her escort during the city tour that morning, she still looked rather nervous to have been the full focus of his attention, and she seemed not to have noticed the mischievous glint in the archdruid's eyes.

"He's implying that the only way I could get a woman is if I kidnapped one," Varian growled drily, folding his arms across his chest.

He gave Broll his most intimidating glare, which, naturally, the archdruid ignored.

"Oh!" Auriana exclaimed, blushing slightly. "Ah… no. I'm here of my own volition, I promise."

She gave Broll a tentative smile, and he let out a dry chuckle.

"If you're sure," he said warmly, sitting back with a shrug.

"I am," she said quietly, glancing up at Varian with soft eyes. "Though - is it really so hard to believe that a woman would find Varian attractive?"

"Yes," said Broll.

"No," said Varian, at precisely the same moment.

"Must be a cultural difference, then," Auriana said slowly. "I assure you, there's plenty of  _human_  women who'd love to get their hands on him."

There was a slight edge to her voice, and Varian wondered if she were thinking of the rumours circulating the Keep. Despite what he had just said to Broll, Varian had never really noticed the attention of women, though he wondered if Auriana had perhaps seen something that he had not. He reached out to place a possessive hand on her shoulder, and was surprised to feel the amount of tension still coiled within her muscles.

Broll, too, seemed to have noticed Auriana's discomfort, and he patted her leg reassuringly.

"You must forgive me my fun, Archmage. I am, of course, only teasing. There is no finer man alive than Varian Wrynn," he proclaimed. "I have fought from one side of Azeroth to the other at his side, and in doing so I have seen the truth of him. I believe that it is only through the fight and the fire that you can get the measure of a man, and Varian has certainly been tested more than most."

Varian coughed, surprised by Broll's heartfelt declaration, and he gruffly nodded his thanks. Evidently, while Broll was more than willing to poke fun at Varian's expense, he still had his friend's best interests at heart.

"I absolutely agree," Auriana said seriously. "You can't hide who you are really are fight. There's no pretence, or grandiosity, or lies - just you, and your strength, and your will to win."

Her eyes narrowed wolfishly, and she leaned forward with unexpected earnest. Varian frowned, recognising her expression as the one she wore when closing in on her prey, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"How about it, then?" she said.

"What?"

"You said you wanted to talk," she elaborated. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm not the best with words... That said… there are other ways to talk."

"You want to duel?" Broll asked curiously. "You and I?"

"What better way to get to know one another? And I certainly wouldn't mind testing myself against a champion of Dire Maul," Auriana said eagerly, suddenly looking much more herself. "Varian won't fight me. I think he fears hurting me."

"I don't want to hurt you, either," Broll pointed out.

"No, but you don't have quite the same concerns about my safety," Auriana countered. "You're also assuming that you  _could_  hurt me."

Her eyes sparkled with challenge, and Varian knew that Broll would have a hard time resisting. While perhaps not as hard a man as Varian, there was a reason he had excelled in the gladiator pits. He was cunning and fierce, and he had the soul of a born warrior. Of course, so did Auriana, and Varian felt his pulse quicken at the thought of seeing the two of them throw down.

Evidently, he was not the only one interested in watching such a bout, judging from the sudden silence that had fallen over the room. Greymane had trailed off mid-sentence, while Tyrande's glowing eyes were sharp. Even Malfurion and Anduin looked interested, and they were arguably the two most temperate personalities in the room.

Broll looked over towards Malfurion, and the two powerful druids exchanged a telling glance.

"What say you, Shan'do?" he asked. "I would not want to risk diplomatic relations between Darnassus and Stormwind, after all."

"I think we can all agree such a match would be a friendly endeavour," Malfurion said slowly. "Varian?"

"Stormwind certainly has no objection," Varian agreed, trying not to appear overeager. "The Alliance has a proud warrior tradition - what better way than to solidify relations by watching a bout between two of our finest champions?"

"I would be curious to see such a fight," Tyrande admitted.

For all the serenity of her outward appearance, Varian knew that she had a well-hidden bloodthirsty streak, and he was not at all surprised by her interest.

"Of course… it has been some time since you've seen action, Broll," she added, tenting her fingers thoughtfully in her lap. "Are you sure you are up to the challenge?"

"You doubt me, High Priestess?" Broll said, baring his teeth in a savage grin. "I am still the druid who triumphed in the Crimson Ring, I assure you."

"Then it is settled," Tyrande said firmly, her rich voice rising with anticipation. "We will meet in your arena before sundown – and we'll see what our champions can do…"

* * *

The twilight air was cool and fresh as Varian, Tyrande, Malfurion, Anduin, and Greymane eventually found their way down into Stormwind Keep's arena to watch Broll and Auriana fight. The sun had already started to dip below the horizon, but there was more than enough light for a single arena match. Given the relative power and ferocity of both combatants, Varian did not expect the fight to be overly lengthy, though he did expect it to be explosive. He had also ensured that there would be no curious onlookers, save for a handful of the necessary guards, though he was sure exaggerated tales of the fight would spread throughout the city before too long.

Broll and Auriana were already waiting as Varian lead his guests into the stands, Auriana having swapped her beautiful dress for a set of plain leathers. They were standing in the centre of the ring, about twenty feet apart, the dying sunlight glinting off Broll's antlers and Auriana's hair as they both went through their respective warm-ups. Broll acknowledged Varian's arrival with a casual wave, though Auriana kept her eyes firmly trained on her opponent.

"Are you ready?" Broll called, as Varian took his seat between Anduin and Malfurion.

"In a moment. Would you like to make this interesting?" Auriana said.

"Are you suggesting a wager?" Broll asked. "Gold?"

"I don't think either of us has any particular use for gold," Auriana observed slowly, cocking her head to the side. "Let's keep it simple. If I win… you owe me a favour. If you win, I owe you."

"You wish to trade boons?"

"If you're amenable," Auriana replied, shrugging lightly.

"Very well," Broll agreed. "Let us begin."

He tossed his rustic leather tunic aside as he danced backwards on the balls of his feet, the heavy muscles in his back tensing in readiness. His golden eyes were feral and bright, and he had an aura of furious focus about him that Varian recognised all too well. Gone was the tranquillity of his druid's guise, to be replaced by the raw, seething energy of a wild beast.

"I must warn you, however…" he growled. "Mine is the strength of the wild!"

Auriana took up a fighting stance, and sent flashes of power racing down into her hands. Ever since Blackrock Foundry, she had typically taken to covering her magically scarred arms with gloves or robes, both for personal and strategic reasons. Today, however, she had left them bare, and they shone as if she had dipped her hands in pure starlight.

"The wild's got nothing on me," she grinned.

She began to slowly pace around Broll in a wide circle, her movements predatory and graceful. The tight, nervous energy that had hung about her all day had vanished, and she looked as keen and sharply focused as Broll. The air was suddenly thick with tension, and Varian couldn't help but to lean forward in eager anticipation.

"Is this safe? Broll is one of the greatest druids alive… but he's no berserk," Malfurion said quietly, leaning over to speak so that only Varian could hear. "I spoke truthfully earlier – I  _have_  heard stories of what she can do."

"Auriana's fury is well controlled," Varian growled firmly. "She knows her limits, and would never harm him."

"I have no wish to cause offense," Malfurion continued quickly, "To either you or your lady. But can you really tell me that she's not dangerous?"

"Of course she's dangerous," Varian snarled proudly. "And the whole world knows it."

He gave Malfurion a firm, warning glance, and the Archdruid wisely fell silent. Varian knew he could have been a bit more diplomatic, but he hated to see Auriana treated as if she were some mindless beast. He needed Malfurion's confidence, yes, but he would never let it come at Auriana's expense – especially after learning of the rumours circling the Keep.

"Watch," he added. "You'll see that she can be trusted."

Before Malfurion could reply, Broll opened the fight in spectacular fashion, calling down a blast of moonfire on Auriana's head without warning. She protected herself with a wave of her hand, smiling in satisfaction as the bright light of Broll's magic glanced off her glittering frost shield. Broll growled fiercely, and in a fraction of a second he had lunged forwards and transformed himself into a monstrous brown bear. His heavy furred shoulders were marked with glowing druidic sigils, and his eyes glowed with feral power as he threw himself against Auriana in earnest.

Varian knew Broll's fighting style almost as well as he knew his own, and he could predict the druid's movements so well it was as if he were fighting in the arena, too. Auriana, however, was much less predictable, and he could see that Broll found her unorthodox movement patterns increasingly frustrating as the fight wore on. There were elements of her tactics that were classic Kirin Tor, of course, but in many ways her approach was more akin to the straight-up power and savagery of a warrior, rather than a mage. She was far more comfortable in the melee than either her class or her size would suggest, and Broll was surprised more than once to have her appear right on top of him with a spell in hand.

For her part, Auriana had to contend with the immense physical power of Broll's bear form, and his surprising swiftness. Her lesser spells bounced off his hide like they were nothing, and he gave her little room to breathe as he hunted her from one side of the arena to the other, swiping at her with his massive paws. Oddly enough, Auriana seemed to enjoy the chase, and more than once she allowed Broll to get tantalisingly close before dancing away.

Eventually, however, something in her eyes hardened, and she used a quick series of blinks to get away, sliding to a stop about fifty feet away from the pursuing druid and preparing a powerful, complex spell. Broll saw his chance and charged, rapidly gaining speed as he raced across the dirt floor of the arena. Auriana stood her ground, her eyes sharply narrowed in concentration, and to Varian she seemed to be muttering something under her breath. She didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated by the eight-hundred-pound bear hurtling towards her, however, and neither moved nor raised a hand in her own defense. Varian's breath caught, at once both thrilled and alarmed by the scene unfolding before him, and as he looked briefly to the side he realised that everyone else was similarly on the edge of their seats.

Clearly surprised by her apparent disinclination to dodge, Broll flinched away ever so slightly at the last second, and Auriana finally struck in earnest. She slipped to the side like lightning, touching a hand to Broll's right hindquarter as he barrelled past, and he stumbled as his leg was swallowed by a thick wave of ice. Sensing her advantage, Auriana flashed back toward him, hobbling his other side, and sending him crashing face first into the arena floor. The green light of druidic magic flared around Broll's claws as he attempted to free himself from his icy prison, but Auriana was faster. She closed in on Broll's head, avoiding the snap of his massive jaws, and froze his entire upper body solid before dropping him to the ground with a loud thud.

Auriana then backed away slowly, her magic still shining on her fingertips, but it was clear that in a real battle she would have Broll dead to rights, and he absolutely knew it. He let out a muffled roar, hampered as he was by the ice around his lower jaw, and ceded the fight with a shake of his massive head. Auriana cleared away her ice with a wave of her hand, and Broll faded into his normal night elf form once more.

"I concede," he said magnanimously, though Varian could tell he was smarting somewhat from the loss. "The victory is yours."

"I haven't had a good fight like that in a while," Auriana said, the echo of her magic slowly fading from about her eyes. "Thank you."

She walked over to Broll's side, and kindly offered him a hand to help him back to his feet. Both combatants were breathing heavily from their exertions, but it was clear to Varian that they had both thoroughly enjoyed the exercise.

"You don't fight like any mage I've ever seen," Broll told Auriana, shaking the last vestiges of frost from his arms. "And you're a lot faster than I thought you'd be."

"Perhaps you're just getting old," Varian suggested, taking some small revenge for Broll's earlier teasing.

"At least I was brave enough to fight her, my friend," Broll retorted smartly, looking up at Varian with a sly grin.

Greymane and Anduin laughed, and even Malfurion had to struggle not to smile. He looked somewhat mollified by Auriana's calm, clean performance in the arena, and Varian hoped that he would come to trust her more fully in time.

"I suppose you ought to name your favour, then, Archmage," Broll added, turning back to Auriana. "Let it never be said that Broll Bearmantle failed to honour a fair wager."

"My friends call me Auri," she said warmly. "And as for my boon…"

She glanced towards the stands, and her bright-eyed gaze quickly found Varian. Her cheeks were pink from the exertion of the fight and her dark hair was wild, but she looked far happier and more relaxed than Varian had seen her all day. She gave him a small, thoughtful half smile, and he felt some of the lingering tension between them dissipate.

"It's been some time since Varian has been out of the Keep on a hunt," she said softly. "You two so rarely get to see one another, I thought you might both enjoy an afternoon out in Elwynn. Besides… he needs his exercise."

Varian ducked his head to hide his surprise, amazed that she would ask not for something for herself, but rather for  _him_. Broll, too looked somewhat thrown by the request, and he scratched thoughtfully at his antlers as he considered her quiet appeal.

"You want me to take Varian hunting?" he repeated uncertainly.

"Please," Auriana confirmed. "If you'd be so kind."

Broll looked her carefully in the eye, unblinking, and he considered the question for a long time. Despite the frightening ferocity he could display in a fight, he was otherwise a wise and considered man, and he was clearly not blind to the unspoken tension between Varian and Auriana. He was also one of the few people in the world who could have claimed to know Varian as a man and not just as a king, and his good opinion mattered to Varian a great deal.

"Of course," Broll said finally, his expression changing to one of newfound respect as he lifted a hand to clap Auriana gently on the shoulder. "It would be my genuine pleasure. After all, we can't have our mighty warrior king getting fat, now can we…?"


	6. Auriana

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of diplomatic meetings, dinners, and events, and Auriana was surprised to find herself growing more comfortable in her role as Varian's consort. It helped that Tyrande and Malfurion had both been kind and generous, and Broll especially had done his best to make her feel welcome. Varian, too, had been very careful to see to her needs, despite his initial mistake of hiding the night elves' visit from her, and Auriana's nervousness had slowly but steadily begun to pass.

Of course, she didn't think she would ever  _quite_  get used to standing at Varian's side and taking an active role in shaping the future of the Alliance, but nor were things quite so tense and awful as she had feared. Many of the skills she had developed as commander of Lunarfall had come in handy during the negotiations, and much to Auriana's own amazement, she had increasingly begun to take a role as an active participant, instead of a mere observer.

Most surprising of all, Auriana had come to excitedly anticipate the private dinners that Varian had hosted each night of the diplomatic tour. As a naturally guarded person, she had initially found the idea of talking one on one with the cool and mysterious night elf leaders daunting, but she had come to genuinely enjoy their presence. Broll was far wittier than she had anticipated, and seemed to have a genuine talent for teasing Varian; while Tyrande and Malfurion made for clever and vastly well-educated conversational partners.

Auriana also strongly suspected that Varian had asked Genn Greymane and Anduin to keep an eye out for her, and she was never allowed to go far without either a King or a Prince at her side. In truth, she found it somewhat stifling, but she could not begrudge Varian the sweetness of the gesture, especially given their argument earlier in the week. Luckily, both Greymane and Anduin were excellent company, and she had enjoyed getting to know both of them on a more personal level.

At dinner that night, however, the fourth night after the night elves' arrival, Auriana found herself feeling oddly lethargic and out of sorts. Dinner had been superb, as usual, with generous servings of spiced lamb and roast vegetables, but she had picked somewhat listlessly at her food as the conversation moved on around her. It was perhaps understandable, given the excitement of the past week, but despite her best attempts at politeness, Auriana found it hard to ignore her sudden need for space.

Eventually, she could remain seated no longer, and she slipped outside onto the balcony under the cover of one of Greymane's tavern stories that had Varian scowling and Anduin in hysterics. As she had hoped, the night breeze was cool and soothing upon her flushed cheeks, and seemed to ease away the growing ache in her stomach. For several long minutes she stood in blissful peace, loose tendrils of hair fluttering around her face, until she was unexpectedly joined by none other than Tyrande herself.

"Look," the priestess intoned, floating forwards to stand at Auriana's side and gazing up at the half-moon. "Elune graces us with her light."

"It is a beautiful evening," Auriana agreed, though she hadn't really been paying all that much attention.

"I take it you that needed some fresh air?" Tyrande observed shrewdly.

"I… yes," Auriana admitted. "You may not have noticed, but these sorts of events aren't really my forte."

Her social awkwardness wasn't precisely the reason she had left, but she didn't wish to confess to Tyrande that she was feeling unwell. It seemed to be only a passing flush, if anything, and she didn't want anyone – namely Varian – starting a fuss.

"I  _had_  guessed," Tyrande smiled, her eyes sparkling kindly. "Do not worry yourself, Archmage, you have done well this week – and I hope that you have found my people most welcoming."

"More than I had expected, actually," Auriana said honestly. "I know your people aren't exactly… fond… of mages. Malfurion certainly didn't want me to duel with Broll."

"Indeed he did not, though he was impressed by your control," Tyrande said slowly, turning her face upwards into the sky. "The kaldorei have had a long and troublesome history with the arcane. It can be a source of great good, yes, but also a source of great misery."

Somehow, she managed to stand perfectly still, as if carved from stone, and the moonlight suddenly seemed brighter for her presence.

"I agree," Auriana murmured quietly. "I've done things with magic that I regret. Necessary things, but... still regrettable."

"One cannot be too careful when it comes to magic," Tyrande said firmly, her gaze suddenly sharp. "I only hope you understand that better than some of my people."

"I do," Auriana nodded. "Better than most, I think, after what I've seen."

"Yes… you are a most interesting creature, young berserk," Tyrande mused. "There are still those who would see you imprisoned or killed for what you can do."

"There was a time in my life I might have agreed with them," Auriana said darkly. "But I have learned, and I have  _fought_  to control my magic."

Tyrande nodded thoughtfully, though it was difficult to tell what she might be thinking. Night elf facial expressions could be markedly different from those of humans, and in that moment the High Priestess was entirely inscrutable.

"What do you think?" Auriana wondered, surprised by her boldness in asking the question.

"Of mages?" Tyrande asked, turning to face Auriana fully. "I have fought alongside many of your ilk in service to the Alliance, including Jaina Proudmoore and your Archmage Khadgar, and I have found them to be brave and worthy allies. Of course, I would be lying if I said I had complete trust in the work of your order, but… I have learned that evil can come from anywhere. It would be wrong to dismiss you simply because of  _what_  you are, and ignore the great service you have done for Alliance, and for Azeroth as a whole."

Auriana snorted lightly in response, having expected to hear something rather different.

"My opinion surprises you," Tyrande said, tilting her head to the side.

"It does."

"Perhaps I might explain myself better another way," the priestess said, her long brows twitching in thought. "It was Queen Azshara and my own people who first bought the Burning Legion to this world – do you believe  _me_  responsible for the sins of my kin?"

"No, I don't," Auriana said firmly.

"Then I shall not judge  _your_  use of the arcane," Tyrande offered, "Unless you give me a reason."

"I assure you, Tyrande, I do not take your faith in me lightly," Auriana murmured, staring down at her hands. "Azeroth and the Alliance will always be of greater importance to me than the arcane, and I act only to protect what we have built."

Tyrande nodded, and she at least seemed mostly satisfied by Auriana's answer. It was clear that she still had some misgivings about Auriana's chosen path, but it did not appear to be personal. She carried the burden of thousands of years of culture and bad experiences on her shoulders, and it was unsurprising that she was slow to trust. If nothing else, however, Tyrande seemed to be a very pragmatic woman, and Auriana somehow knew that she would never put her personal prejudices ahead of the good of the Alliance, or the safety of her home and peoples.

The High Priestess had started to say something else, but her words were lost as Auriana was struck with a sudden a wave of nausea. While she had dismissed her ill feeling as mere tiredness, it was becoming increasingly apparent that she was afflicted by something far more serious than mere fatigue, and she began to wonder how she could gracefully extricate herself from the conversation without arousing Tyrande's suspicions.

"Mmm," she muttered noncommittally, unable to concentrate on whatever Tyrande was saying.

She wasn't trying to be rude, but she could not simply ignore the clamminess of her palms and the trembling in her legs the way she had ignored the vague feeling of ill ease that had plagued her since dinner. Her vision was now blurry, and she began to feel an incredible pressure building in her temples. Sweat had broken out across her brow as her stomach churned painfully, and her heart felt like it was about to leapt out of her chest.

"If you would prefer not to talk further, I can leave you in peace," Tyrande said, sounding rather affronted by Auriana's inattention.

"No, it's not that…" Auriana muttered, pressing a hand to her roiling belly.

The world around her was now spinning wildly, and she staggered forwards on rapidly weakening legs.

"Help," she managed, clutching at the stone wall in a desperate attempt to stay on her feet.

She faintly heard Tyrande move to stand behind her, and dimly felt the soft pressure of the priestess' cool hands against her shoulder.

"Auriana?" Tyrande asked urgently.

"Please…" she stammered. "I…"

The last thing Auriana remembered was Tyrande calling for the guards, before she slid gracelessly down the wall as the entire world faded to black.

* * *

The next thing Auriana remembered was waking up in Varian's bed, firmly tucked in beneath a small mountain of pelts and covers. There was a warm poultice against her head that smelled faintly of silverleaf and mageroyal, and someone had replaced the dress she had worn at dinner with a loose cotton nightgown. Varian himself was sleeping deeply by her side, though with his naturally high body temperature he had forgone the furs in favour of a single light blanket.

Judging from the soft golden light coming in from the window, it was already morning, and with a start Auriana realised she must have been unconscious since her collapse. She still felt disoriented and feverish, though she was more concerned by her stomach than anything else. It roiled as if she were on the deck of one of her father's ships in a high storm, and with a rising sense of alarm, she realised she was going to be sick.

Auriana threw the furs off her legs and sent her poultice flying as she made a mad dash for the bathroom, slamming the wooden door shut and reflexively clicking the lock behind her. She made straight for the lavatory, and arrived just in time to empty the meagre contents of her stomach with a horrible retching noise. Her entire body convulsed with each violent heave, and the acrid, burning taste of bile brought tears to her eyes.

Unhappily, it was some time before the fit subsided and Auriana was able to release her iron grip on the lavatory's porcelain bowl. She sat back on her heels with a shaky sigh, resting her head against the blessedly cool stone of Varian's chamber walls, when her feverish reverie was interrupted by the sudden sound of someone calling her name.

"Auri?"

She vaguely realised the deep voice as Varian's, and she struggled to hold her nausea in check long enough to speak.

"V-Varian?" she managed. "I'm in here."

"What are you doing out of bed?" he asked reproachfully, the concern in his voice evident even through the heavy wood of the bath chamber's outer door.

"I… I had to be sick," she said weakly. "I didn't… didn't want to throw up all over your furs…"

"I don't give a damn about the furs," he growled. "Why is this door locked?"

Auriana heard him rattle the knob in irritation, and she tried her best to gather her feet and walk back over to the door. Unfortunately, she couldn't move nearly fast enough for Varian's liking, and he had started to thump his fist angrily against the wood.

"Light help me, Auri, I will break down this door if I have to…" he snapped.

Auriana heard the sound of heavy footsteps on stone, and she realised he was about to charge the door. Using what little energy she could muster, she lunged forward and flicked the lock, before sliding down the wall in an exhausted heap. Luckily, she seemed to have reached the door before Varian shattered it into splinters, and a second later he opened it by more traditional means and poked his head through.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Force of habit, I didn't even think…"

Auriana trailed off at the look on Varian's face, and she realised she must have looked truly awful. She could see from the colour of her hands that she must have been incredibly pale, even by her standards, and she knew her hair was lank with sweat.

"Auri…" Varian muttered sadly, and he crouched down worriedly at her side.

"What happened?" she asked wearily. "I feel like someone tried to pull my insides out."

"You have food poisoning," Varian explained. "Quite badly, by the looks of it…"

"Food poisoning?" Auriana repeated, frowning up at him. "I… that doesn't make any sense."

Certainly, her sick stomach was consistent with his story, but the dizziness and the weakness didn't felt like any food poisoning she'd ever had. Her head seemed incredibly dense and she felt as if she were burning alive from the inside out, and instinctively she knew there had to be more to this than a simple piece of bad meat.

"After you collapsed, Tyrande, Malfurion,  _and_  Anduin examined you," Varian continued. "They ruled out any kind of disease or illness, and concluded that you had suffered a simple, if severe, bout of food poisoning. The poultice you had should help to ease the fever and the vomiting, and Anduin promised he would be by later to give you more healing."

"But… I ate the same things as the rest of you," Auriana protested.

"Perhaps the meat you were given was undercooked, or your stomach might be particularly delicate," Varian suggested, frowning. "I'll be speaking to the kitchens, by the way, I assure you."

"Delicate?" Auriana snorted. "I know I  _look_  like a doll, Varian, but I'm hardly  _delicate…_ "

"You look rather delicate right now," he countered, slipping one arm beneath her shoulders and the other around her waist. "Come on, let's get you off that cold floor."

He lifted her easily, and cradled her almost reverentially against his body as he carried her to the bed. Varian was not the kind of man one would ever call  _gentle_ , but he treated Auriana with the utmost care as he tucked her beneath the blankets and placed the poultice against her forehead once more.

"If you need to be sick again, there's a bucket beneath the bed," he told her, kicking the wooden pail with his foot. "No need to exhaust yourself running to the bathroom."

"Thank you," she murmured, though she still couldn't quite believe that she felt  _this_  bad from simple food poisoning.

Varian obviously noticed her scepticism, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's just… I'm no healer, but while food poisoning might explain the vomiting and the nausea what about the fainting?" she asked. "The cloudiness of my thoughts, the fever, the pain…"

"What else would it be, Auriana?" Varian asked patiently.

"Poison," Auriana said instantly.

The thought hadn't truly occurred to her until that moment, but the clarity of it hit her like a bolt of lightning. Varian, however, looked far more skeptical, and he frowned as he took a seat on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on her thigh.

"Who would want to poison you?" he asked slowly.

"Any of the nobles who have been starting these rumours?" Auriana suggested, biting down a flash of anger at his reticence to understand her point of view. "You know that Anguile has threatened me in the past."

"There's a big difference between rumours and attempted murder…" Varian countered. "Rohas Anguile is a snake, and I would dearly love any excuse to thrash him… but he isn't a killer. I have no doubt that he would attempt discredit you or harm you politically, but he's far too cowardly to provoke my ire with an attempt on your life."

"You really think so?" Auriana asked doubtfully.

"Do you have any idea what I'd do to someone who took you away from me?" Varian growled, tightening his hand on her leg with an almost painful intensity. "I would make the Burning Legion look kind."

Something shadowy and truly terrifying shifted behind his eyes, and the air around him seemed to darken. He suddenly vibrated with a fierce, dangerous energy, and Auriana had no doubt that anyone who touched her would suffer a fate worse than death.

"I will admit, the possibility of poison  _did_  occur to me, but three skilled healers examined you, and they found nothing," he continued, shaking himself slightly. "Besides… why aren't you dead? If you were poisoned, it was a poor effort on the assassin's behalf."

"I… I don't know," Auriana admitted. "Maybe the poisoner underestimated the dose, or I didn't eat as much of my dinner as they had anticipated…"

Varian frowned and considered her point thoughtfully, though Auriana knew him well enough to know that he wasn't convinced. He was clearly trying his best to respect her opinion, but he could not hide the fact that he simply did not agree.

"You don't believe me," she observed quietly.

"I believe you're unwell," Varian said firmly, his tone allowing no room for further argument. "For now, my only priority is keeping you safe, and seeing you healthy again."

He abruptly rose to his feet and turned his back on her, striding over to his bedroom door and turning the knob.

"To that end…" he started.

As he spoke, he ushered two Stormwind Royal Guards inside, each decked out in their gleaming best armour. The taller of the two was a lanky woman with rich chestnut hair and a vicious scar across her neck, while the shorter was a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman that Auriana thought looked vaguely familiar.

"Lana Ridley, ma'am," said the shorter woman, with a crisp salute.

"A pleasure to meet you, Commander," added the other. "Jane Crowther, at your service."

"At my service?" Auriana repeated, pulling her blankets up around her neck to cover the sheerness of her cotton nightgown.

"I'd like you to meet Ridley and Crowther," Varian explained, gesturing to the two royal elites. "I've asked them to act as your bodyguards. They are two of my best, and they'll be personally responsible for you from now on."

"I don't need bodyguards, Varian," Auriana protested, as vehemently as she was currently able. "No offense intended to your fine guards, of course, but I can look after myself."

"I can see that," Varian said drily, his eyes sweeping pointedly over her dishevelled appearance.

Auriana looked up at him witheringly, and but she realised she didn't have much of a case when she was currently slumped lifelessly in her bed.

"You really think 'food poisoning' justifies an armed escort?" she scoffed, raising a sarcastic brow.

"No, but I have been meaning to get you protection for some time," Varian said patiently. "Your infirmity presented me with an unexpected opportunity, and I made the request to Ridley and Crowther last night."

"You waited until I was sick… so that I couldn't argue with you?" Auriana asked.

She tried her best to look indignant, though she suspected the expression simply made her look more ill.

"Yes," Varian replied blithely, clearly not caring one whit for her objection. "I can't watch you all the time."

"I don't  _need_  to be watched all the time," Auriana muttered irritably. "I'm not some… wayward child."'

"I'm afraid it isn't up for discussion," Varian said quietly, fixing her with his most serious stare.

Auriana quietly rankled at the firmness of his tone, and it was only due to the presence of the two guards in the room that she didn't bite his head off. It hadn't even been a  _week_  since he had promised her he would not use his position of authority as king against her, and yet here he was, strongarming her once again. His concern didn't even make  _sense_ – he refused to entertain the idea that she might have been poisoned, and yet he somehow felt that she required day and night protection.

Varian must have noticed the look on her face, because he leaned towards her, and very carefully placed a hand on either side of her hips.

"Auri… please," he added gently, so that only she could hear. "For my sake, if nothing else. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you.  _Please_ "

His voice was low and urgent, and she realised that while he may not have believed her poisoning theory, he found her weakened appearance genuinely frightening. There was an uncharacteristic look of pleading in his eyes, and Auriana found it hard to resist.

"Very well," she conceded, flopping back against her pillows with a sigh.

"Thank you," Varian said seriously. "For today, however… you'll be under my protection."

He waved Ridley and Crowther out of the room, and once again moved to sit carefully by Auriana's side.

"Today? Isn't today your hunting trip with Broll?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Certainly, don't miss it on my account. I know how much you've been looking forward to getting outside and spending some time with your friend."

"Broll will understand," Varian assured her, waving a hand dismissively. "You come first. Always."

"Varian – your being here isn't going to make me feel any less sick to my stomach…" Auriana said, smiling slightly. "Unless you've developed some healing skills I don't know about."

"I would like to think I could bring you some kind of comfort, even if I can't ease your physical symptoms," he protested, frowning darkly.

"You do," she assured him quickly, taking his hand. "You… you're home to me, Varian… but that doesn't change the fact that you should go hunting. At least one of us should have a good day."

Varian studied Auriana closely for a long time, his stormy blue eyes raking every inch of her face before he leaned in to rest his forehead on hers.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"Well of course you don't," Auriana quipped. "You would have had to have done some truly  _horrible_  things to ever deserve  _me_."

"Ha, ha," Varian growled drily, pulling back. "You really think I ought to go? You'll be alright here without me?"

Auriana nodded.

"I'm probably just going to sleep, anyway, and you don't want to be the kind of creepy man that stares at women while they're sleeping," she elaborated, trying not to roll her eyes at his overprotectiveness. "That's more Khadgar's speed."

"What?"

"Ah… nothing, something of an in-joke between he and I…" she said quickly. "My point is – you should go."

Auriana pushed weakly on his arm to emphasise her point, and did her best to give him a confident smile. She felt genuinely awful, but she would be damned if Varian would lose out on his hunting trip because of her.

"If you're sure…" he said doubtfully, though he nevertheless rose to his feet and prepared to leave.

Auriana rolled onto her side as Varian moved about the room, changing the loose linen drawers he had worn to bed for one of his many well-used hunting sets. He was right, she knew; she  _did_ find his presence comforting, and she certainly enjoyed watching the way his muscles moved as he dressed. He was the most physically impressive man she had ever seen, and despite having told him to leave for his hunt, a part of her wished she had asked him to stay by her side. Auriana had never really been a needy person, however, and even the lingering goodbye kiss he gave her was not enough to change her mind. As far as she was concerned, today was about Varian, and she smiled encouragingly at him as he paused in the doorway, before he finally turned away with a long sigh, and was gone.

* * *

True to her word, Auriana fell asleep almost immediately after Varian had left, and slept until well after midday. This time when she awoke, however, she found the nausea not quite so bad, and she was not forced to make a precipitous flight to the bathroom to relieve her ailing stomach. She certainly didn't feel  _well,_  of course, but it was certainly an improvement, and she immediately decided that she would take advantage of Varian's absence to find proof of her poison theory. The idea had resonated with her on a deep, instinctual level, and she was determined to make Varian see the truth.

Auriana dragged herself gracelessly out of bed, stumbling a little as her feet hit the floor. She could hear her two new guards talking quietly outside, and realised they had only left Varian's bedroom, rather than departing his chambers entirely. Unfortunately, their position presented a significant barrier to Auriana leaving the room. She knew full well that Varian would have given them strict orders to see that she stayed on bedrest, and with the nausea and the state of her head, opening a portal was out of the question. Auriana supposed Varian must have thought himself quite clever to have trapped her so effectively, though there  _were_ other ways to get out of the room.

Moving as quietly as possible so as not to alert Ridley and Crowther, Auriana crept into Varian's wardrobe. She had only had the chance to move a handful of her clothes into Varian's extensive closet, but she was able to find a simple cloth dress that suited her purposes easily enough. It was nothing special, but her skin didn't look quite so pale against the soft dove grey of the fabric, and once she had piled her hair up on top of her head, she felt that she at least looked  _vaguely_  human.

Once she was dressed, Auriana pulled on a soft pair of slippers, and made her way into Varian's bath chamber. This time, however, she was not here to be sick, but rather to find the entranceway to one of several secret passages that lead out of the royal quarters. Varian had shown her them all, of course, and she knew that this one would take her closest to the library – and away from her escort.

The journey didn't take long, though Auriana was out of breath by the time she stepped out of the hidden tunnel and made her way through the throne room and out towards the library. She kept her face down as she walked, trying to avoid being stopped by any guards, though she supposed there couldn't have been too many other dark-haired, five-foot-tall women wandering about the Keep.

Fortunately, Varian's orders seemed to have only been conveyed to Ridley and Crowther, and Auriana was able to make it to the royal library unmolested. She quickly established herself in a dark corner, trying her best not to throw up all over the library floor, and settled in with a number of books relating to alchemy and the herb lore of Azeroth.

As an apprentice mage, Auriana had never been particularly interested in learning how to make potions, though there were plenty of mages who used them in their work. She had always preferred learning the purely destructive spells, though she regretted the choice as she made a half-hearted attempt to wade through the dense alchemical tomes arrayed before her. It didn't help that Auriana had no real idea of what she was looking for, not to mention that it damnably difficult to concentrate in her weakened state, but she pressed on as best she could.

Judging from the slowly melting candle on the table beside her, Auriana read for over two hours before she finally found something that seemed relevant; a list of poisons that were as untraceable as they were deadly. Energised by a sudden rush of vindication, she set about taking detailed notes, when a commanding voice suddenly echoed loudly off the walls around her.

"You," the voice said, "Are supposed to be in bed."

Startled, Auriana nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun to face the intruder, wondering how on earth Varian had possibly found her. It was not the King of Stormwind that had interrupted her study, however, but rather his son, who had appeared out of nowhere to stand behind her.

"Anduin…" she breathed, placing a hand over her thundering heart, "You scared me. I thought you were Varian."

Oddly enough, the Prince  _did_ look particularly like his father in that moment, scowling down at her with an expression of utmost disapproval.

"You're lucky I'm not," he told her, pulling out the chair next to her and sitting down. "I thought Father had left you under guard."

"He did," Auriana admitted sheepishly, "But I needed to come to the library."

Anduin frowned and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, clearly displeased that she was up and about against medical advice.

"You're still burning up," he told her reproachfully, "And you're as clammy as a fish. What could be so important that'd you risk getting out of bed just to come down to the library?"

"I don't think this is food poisoning," she told him firmly, lifting her chin in defiance. "I think I was poisoned,  _really_  poisoned, but Varian won't believe me without proof."

"Auri… I examined you myself," Anduin said slowly. "There's no poison in your body, I promise you."

"But untraceable poisons  _do_ exist," she argued, gesturing down at alchemical almanac in her hands. "Like this one – Banshee's Touch, or this one here, made with purple lotus."

"If you'd ingested Banshee's Touch, you would have been dead within an hour," Anduin countered calmly. "And given that you haven't broken out in hives, I doubt you've been exposed to purple lotus, either."

He reached forward and gently prised the book from her hands and placed it back on the table. His eyes were kind and his expression serene – and in that moment Auriana found him unbelievably annoying.

"I know when someone is trying to kill me, Anduin," she muttered irritably, though privately she had to admit he had a point.

"Are you sure that isn't the problem?" he asked carefully.

"What?"

"Auri… you've been fighting a war for over a year," he explained gently. "You're used to being on edge, under threat. Maybe you've become  _too_  used to that kind of life, and you're not sure how to… relax."

"You think this is all in my head?" she demanded, her voice rising sharply.

"No, no, I'm not saying that at all…" Anduin said soothingly. "It's just that your senses may be… overtuned. "You're so used to seeing enemies in every corner, it must be difficult to switch off."

Auriana sighed in frustration, though try as she might, she couldn't really think of a decent counterargument. Although she had done her best to adjust since returning home, she could not deny that she had been  _twitchy_  since leaving Draenor. Despite the bustle of the city, she often found Stormwind too quiet, and she still found it hard to sleep through till morning without at least one nightmare. She had avoided telling Varian, of course, but Anduin was a remarkably perceptive young man, and in his own quiet way he may have seen to the heart of the matter.

"You… I suppose you're probably right," she said eventually, conceding the argument with a shake of her head. "I mean… we're in Stormwind. It's got to be a lot safer than Draenor… right?"

"Father would never let anything happen to you," Anduin agreed. "Not  _ever_."

He placed a soft hand on her shoulder, and Auriana gasped as she felt the sudden power of the Light flow through her veins. Unlike the healing of a druid or a shaman, the healing of a Light-wielder always felt to her as if she had been struck by a bolt of pure energy, and Auriana felt a sudden rush of fresh stamina race through her limbs. She felt better than she had all day, though she could tell it would be some time before she was back up to full strength.

"That should help," Anduin said, smiling warmly, "But you really should be resting. Can I escort you back to your rooms?"

"No, it's fine," she told him, returning his smile. "I'll be fine."

"Auri…" he started reproachfully.

"I'm going to go straight back to bed," she promised. "Besides, you look as if you've got somewhere to be."

"Seeing as Father and Greymane are out hunting, I'll be hearing royal petitions this afternoon," Anduin explained, tugging at the sleeve of his fine, dark coat.

"Well then, you mustn't let me keep you," she said quickly. "I swear to you, I'll go rest."

"Alright… though I'm coming with you as far as the throne," Anduin said sternly, rising and offering her his arm with a gallant flourish.

Auriana accepted gratefully, and together they took a slow stroll back out through the library and into Stormwind's imposing high seat. Anduin talked amiably as they walked, and although she would go to her grave before admitting it, Auriana was glad for the strength of his arm. Her adventure in the library had weakened her more than she would have expected, and she had no intention of breaking her promise to return to bed.

After leaving Anduin to attend to his duties in the throne room, Auriana began to make her way back towards the secret passageway that lead to Varian's chambers. Although it would have been easier to walk in through the main door, she decided it was best to keep her escape a secret, lest her new guards be forced to face Varian's considerable wrath.

She was just about to round the corner into the final stretch of passageway that lead to the hidden door, when she suddenly overheard a scathing voice echoing back down the corridor towards her, and she paused.

" _I_  heard she fainted," someone was saying, and a horrible sick feeling entirely unrelated to her illness began to rise in Auriana's stomach.

"Isn't she supposed to be some sort of great soldier?" a second female voice chimed in. "You wouldn't think she would be quite so weak."

"I've no idea what the King sees in her," agreed a third woman, who Auriana immediately recognised as Cathelora Anguile. "She's barely a noblewoman – and apparently not much of a warrior either, no matter what she likes to claim."

The daughter of Rohas Anguile had made her intentions regarding Varian perfectly clear, and while she had never behaved with anything other than simpering obsequiousness in company, in private Auriana had come to learn she was a good deal more cunning and cattish than her vapid façade would otherwise suggest. It was not the first time Auriana had overheard the graceful redhead trading in rumours and vicious gossip, and she very much doubted it would be the last.

Wincing, Auriana flattened herself against the wall, out of sight, and desperately tried to think of a way to avoid Cathelora and her cronies. She didn't want to bother her guards, but with Cathelora blocking her retreat to the safety of the hidden passageway, it seemed as if she had little other choice. It pained Auriana to admit it, but as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, Cathelora's little barbs hurt, and worse, they tapped into some of her deepest fears and insecurities. Her heart began to beat faster as her flight instincts kicked in, and she wanted nothing more than to run back down the corridor and as far away from the young noblewomen as she could.

 _But why, though?_ a small, fierce voice inside her suddenly whispered. _Why are you running? Is some ginger upstart really more frightening to you than Deathwing, or Archimonde?_

Auriana frowned. She knew she wasn't a coward, but she had been entirely unprepared for the reality of the silent war that undercut Stormwind's politics. Enemies like Archimonde at least had the courtesy to strike at one's face, but the Catheloras of the world dealt in whispers and subtle cruelty, and Auriana was entirely out of her depth against such opponents. And yet… when it came to battle, she prided herself on her courage and determination, and she wondered why she found it so difficult to apply the same skills here.

 _Don't run,_  she urged herself.  _Fight._

Gritting her teeth, Auriana stepped out around the corner, and slowly but deliberately began to make her way down the corridor to Cathelora and her two friends. Much like Cathelora herself, they were both very pretty, with impossibly long legs and the kind of willowy figures favoured by many a nobleman in the Stormwind Court. Auriana hadn't ever learned their names, knowing them by looks alone, though she supposed they had to be the daughters of some very powerful men. They were all similarly dressed, in expensive silkweave gowns with elaborate lace around the bodices and hems, and they would not have looked out of place at a fancy party. Auriana, on the other hand, knew she looked as if she'd just fallen off the back of a hay wagon, and she tried not to fidget with the plain cloth fabric of her dress as she walked.

"Good day, ladies," she said coolly, hiding a savage smile as all three of them jumped in alarm at having been caught gossiping red-handed.

It was difficult to maintain the appropriate hauteur with her stomach in knots, her legs shaking, and her brow moist with fever sweat; but somehow she managed, striding past the small group of noblewomen with her head held high.

"Good afternoon," Cathelora said simperingly, her upper lip curling delicately as she eyed Auriana critically from top to toe. "Don't you look…  _lovely_ , Auriana."

Somehow, she managed to draw out each syllable viciously, and Auriana had never heard her name sound uglier. She  _had_  been fully prepared to simply walk past, but the stinging comment was enough to make her stop, and her eyes narrowed coldly as she turned back to face the three younger women.

"Your Grace," she said firmly.

"Excuse me?" Cathelora asked, her thin brows arching delicately.

"You should refer to me as 'Your Grace'," Auriana said flatly. "Unlike you, I am a duchess in my own right, and we are not well enough acquainted for you to refer to me by my first name."

Her lips drew into a thin, determined line, and she gave them the kind of fierce, imperious look she normally reserved for recalcitrant demons. She may have been the smallest woman present, but she certainly held the most power, and she had finally decided to put it to good use. She stared Cathelora down with a cool, even expression, never blinking, until one by one all three women curtseyed, as they should have from the start.

"Better," Auriana said approvingly. "It is so  _important_  to preserve the niceties, don't you think? Do enjoy your afternoon."

Satisfied, she spun on her heel and turned to walk away, only to distinctly hear one of the other women mutter 'little bitch' at her retreating back. For a brief second, Auriana's fury surged uncontrollably, though of course she couldn't simply murder the three young noblewoman outright. That said, she didn't have to take their cattiness lying down, either, and she used the briefest flare of her power to send a thin layer of ice spreading out across the cobbled floor. Using magic was costly, given her condition, but Auriana felt it entirely worth the throbbing pain that exploded behind her eyes as Cathelora and her friends made to leave, only to slip wildly on the floor and collapse in a heap of silk and indignant shrieks.

"You should be careful, those stones can be slippery," she said lightly, trying her best to look as innocent as possible. "We wouldn't want you to break your necks, now would we?"

Auriana's whole world was spinning violently, but she would have done the same thing a thousand times if only to see the look on Cathelora's face. Her cheeks were an angry shade of red that clashed horribly with her hair, and her once perfectly pressed dress was now a rumpled mess. Her two friends looked similarly shocked, staring at each other with wide eyes as they made several futile attempts to get back on their feet. Auriana offered no help, of course, instead turning away to stride gracefully off down the corridor. It may have been a petty thing to do, and perhaps beneath a woman of her age and stature, but as she slipped away into the hidden passage that lead back to Varian's chamber, she couldn't help but to allow herself a grin of secret triumph.


	7. Varian

Although Varian had some misgivings about leaving Auriana alone while she was still bedridden, he nevertheless made his way to the stables to meet Broll and Genn Greymane. The worgen king had been eager to join Varian and Broll on their hunting trip, and Varian had been more than happy to invite him along. There were very few people in the world he considered to be his true friends, and it was a rare pleasure to have two of them in the same city. He was concerned about Auriana, of course – he was  _always_  concerned about Auriana, given her proneness to injury – but he  _was_ glad she had insisted on his going hunting.

Both Broll and Greymane were already there as he arrived; Greymane saddling his favourite bay hunter, and Broll looking rather doubtfully up at his mount. Night elves traditionally preferred to ride nightsabers or hippogryphs, and it appeared that Broll was rather less than comfortable around horses. Amusingly, his horse was wearing an uncannily similar expression of scepticism as it started back at Broll's long antlers, and Varian had to hide a smile as he collected his own gelding from a waiting stablehand.

"Morning, Varian," Greymane said warmly, lifting a gloved hand in friendly acknowledgment. "How's your girl?"

"Still quite unwell, but she should be on the mend soon," Varian replied. "She's strong."

"We weren't sure you were going to come," Greymane added, exchanging a quick look with Broll.

"Neither was I," Varian admitted, "But I was told in no uncertain terms that I should not miss this hunt, and… well, here I am."

"It's probably better for her to rest," Broll said reassuringly. "Tyrande assures me she should be fully recovered in a few days."

Varian nodded briefly as he led his horse out of the stables, and swung confidently up into the saddle. His horse pranced eagerly beneath him as he settled his weight, and Varian found his own excitement rising in response. It was a beautiful clear morning, and the crisp, fresh air of an invigorating Elwynn breeze nipped at his cheeks as he headed off down the cobbled main street leading out of the city. Broll and Greymane quickly heeled their horses forward so that could ride on either side of Varian, while a squad of royal guards joined in several lengths behind.

"She thinks someone tried to poison her," Varian told Greymane quietly, once he was sure they were out of earshot of any curious guards or stablehands.

"That's a rather serious allegation," the Gilnean King mused. "I take it you don't agree."

"Actually… I do…" Varian said slowly, "Or, at the very least, the notion is not… inconceivable. But I wasn't about to tell  _her_ that. If she thinks there's someone after her, she's going to run straight at them, and I can't… I can't take that risk."

Despite what he had said to Auriana, Varian very much believed in the possibility of foul play; even despite the reassurances of Tyrande, Malfurion, and Anduin. Not all poisons were traceable, even to experienced healers, and he knew that there was more than one person in the world who might want Auriana dead.

"You lied to her?" Greymane remarked, his thick grey brows drawing together thoughtfully. "You really think that's a good idea?"

"No, but it's the lesser of two evils," Varian countered resolutely. "I  _have_  to keep her safe. I'll have Mathias Shaw investigate. Quietly."

Greymane shook his head, and disapproval was written in every craggy line of his face. He was not one to be shy with his opinions under any circumstances, though it was normally a trait that Varian admired. In this case, however, he had no interest in receiving a running commentary on how to manage his personal relationships, even despite Greymane's vast experience with his own wife.

"It's your funeral, Varian…" Greymane growled.

Varian glanced over at Broll, looking for some support, but Broll, too, mimicked Greymane's disapproving gesture.

"Don't look at me like that, Varian, I agree with our worgen friend," Broll said firmly. 'When it comes to the ones we love, honesty is always the best policy."

"I know what I'm doing," Varian snapped, wondering if he would start to believe it himself if he spoke with enough conviction.

The moment he passed through Stormwind's outer gates, he kicked his horse into a fast canter, and left Broll and Greymane behind. He knew lying to Auriana was wrong, but she was far too  _reckless_ , and placed alarmingly little value on her own life. If it was a choice between her safety and the truth, he would choose her safety every time, and he would never apologise for doing so.

Unfortunately, no matter how many times Varian told himself that he was doing the right thing, he couldn't quite shake the guilty feeling that had settled in the pit of stomach. Trusting that Broll and Greymane would follow, he pushed his horse faster, skirting around the borders of Goldshire and turning towards the south east. He might not have been an expert in women, but he certainly knew how to ride, and he lost himself in the familiar, comforting staccato of galloping hoofbeats.

After a hard ride, Varian finally pulled his hardworking gelding to a halt outside the Westbrook Garrison. The garrison was located before one of Varian's favourite hunting grounds, and it provided a convenient place for the horses and the guards to rest while Varian, Broll, and Greymane made their way into the forest to find good game. The forest south of Westbrook was rich with deer and other wild creatures, and Varian thought it one of the more beautiful places in Elwynn – when it wasn't crawling with gnolls, of course.

Broll and Greymane took some time to arrive, having not pushed their horses quite as much, and Varian was dancing impatiently on the balls of his feet as he watched them approach. He had already sheathed his hunting knife in his belt and slung his bow across his back, ready to go at a moment's notice, and it took all of his patience not to make a sarcastic comment as the two older men slowly dismounted and gathered their things.

"There's a game trail running south east, down toward the river," Broll said, lifting a hand to test the direction of wind. "We should move that way."

To Varian's surprise, Broll was carrying an elven longbow, which he quickly secured over his right shoulder. Varian had wondered if he would hunt in his preferred bear form, but he seemed keen for the challenge that the bow provided. Greymane, unsurprisingly, shifted into his hulking grey worgen's form, and threw his head back to sniff the air.

"Broll's right," he rumbled, his now lupine body deepening his already gravelly voice. "There's good hunting that way."

Varian nodded, and waved briefly to his guards before heading off in the direction that Broll had indicated. The long gallop to Westbrook Garrison had soothed some of his earlier irritability, and he settled into a brisk walk down into the forest. Now that he was here, out in the wild where he belonged, he wasn't in any rush, and he decided that it would be in poor form to waste the morning in a fit of churlishness.

"So… what do you think of Auriana?" Varian asked Broll quietly, having been curious to hear the druid's opinion all week.

They were walking together in lockstep, while Greymane loped along off to the right. All three men moved at a comfortable pace through the forest, though they were alert for any sign of their quarry. The moment they sighted a deer, it would be different story, but for now they could talk quietly as they followed the trail down towards the river.

"Ah. Well, she seems a fine woman," Broll said seriously. "I can see why you like her."

"Oh?"

"She's bright…intelligent… a challenge," Broll explained. "She doesn't seem like she'd let you get away with much."

Broll glanced sidelong at Greymane, whose muzzle twitched sardonically.

"Something you would do well to remember," the Gilnean King muttered.

Varian harrumphed, and pointedly ignored him.

"Were you worried I wouldn't like her?" Broll asked perceptively, scratching thoughtfully at his heavy beard.

"No," Varian replied, perhaps a little too quickly. "Maybe. She was nervous about meeting your delegation… and I  _may_ have handled it rather poorly."

"Varian Wrynn handling a delicate personal matter poorly?" Greymane observed. "Whoever would have thought..."

"Oh, shut up," Varian snarled, nearly at the end of his rope with Greymane's uncomfortably truthful teasing.

Broll, however, seemed to find Greymane's sarcasm infinitely more amusing than Varian, and the forest was soon filled with the rich, echoing sound of his laughter.

"I hope her fears have been allayed somewhat," the archdruid said seriously, once he had finally stopped chuckling. " _You_  may be fair game, but I have no intention of tormenting  _her_."

"It's been going better than I might have expected," Varian admitted.

"She  _has_  handled herself well," Greymane agreed, his muzzle twitching approvingly.

Much like Broll, it seemed that while he was more than willing to have his fun at Varian's expense, he drew the line at Auriana.

"Thank you both. However…" Varian said slowly, glancing across at Broll with a frown, "I got the impression that Malfurion had some concerns. He's been perfectly generous and polite, of course, but he's not comfortable around her. Is it because she's a mage?"

"Perhaps. You know how my people feel about the arcane," Broll said thoughtfully. "But in Malfurion's case… I think it may be a bit more personal."

"Personal?" Varian wondered. "They'd never met until a few days ago. What could have possibly upset him?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Broll asked, lifting his long emerald brows.

"Apparently not," Varian mused, glancing over at an equally nonplussed Greymane.

"She reminds him of Illidan," Broll said simply.

"What?  _Illidan_?" Varian spluttered, frankly astounded that Broll would think to compare Auriana to the Betrayer. "She's  _nothing_  like him."

"Peace, Varian," Broll said calmly, raising a large hand in his defense. "We all know she would never betray her people or the Alliance as Illidan did. But you cannot deny their similarities. Both are prodigiously talented, very clever, and full of rage."

"She isn't Illidan," Varian muttered lowly, though in his heart of hearts he knew that Broll had a point.

Auriana had the potential to do great things for Stormwind and the Alliance, but she also had the potential to be a very real threat. It was something that worried Varian deeply, and it bothered him even more when other people saw the danger that she could one day pose.

"Of course not," Broll said placatingly, his golden eyes glinting. "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise. That said… she  _is_  powerful, more so than I had expected. That little duel of ours? She had me within the first ten seconds. The fight only went on as long as it did because she  _wanted_ it to. She was playing with me, like a cat with a mouse."

"Only she's the mouse," Greymane grinned toothily, making a clear attempt to lighten the mood.

"Ah, yes…" Broll mused thoughtfully, quickly catching on to Greymane's intent. "Tell me something, Varian…"

"Yes…?" Varian said warily.

"You and she. She's awfully little, and you're… well…  _you_ ," Broll elaborated. "I don't pretend to know anything about the intricacies of human mating, of course, but… how on earth do you avoid killing her?"

He spoke seemingly without a hint of teasing or guile, but Varian couldn't help the sudden rush of embarrassment that reddened his neck and the tips of his ears. Greymane roared with laughter at seeing the look on Varian's face; so loudly that a dozen nearby birds were startled into the sky. He had always had an unruly laugh, but in his worgen form it sounded even more throaty and raucous. Broll's mouth twitched suspiciously as he watched the Gilnean King's unbridled amusement, and Varian began to strongly suspect that his question had not been as innocent or objective as he had tried to make it appear.

"We manage perfectly well," Varian said hotly, shooting Broll a scowl that was impressive even by his own standards. "And I daresay better than most. Now, do you two want to keep braying like a pack of hounds, or do you want to catch a deer?"

Broll and Greymane gave him alarmingly identical looks, and Varian could actually  _see_ the moment they both independently decided that teasing him relentlessly was  _far_  more enjoyable that any hunt.

"Really, though, it's a wonder that she's still alive," Greymane chimed in, his flews drawing back in a feral grin. "Do you not worry about rolling over and crushing her in your sleep?"

It was amazing, Varian thought, how the older King managed to look both charmingly innocent and decidedly bawdy all at the same time, especially within his worgen's face.

"You're both awful," he growled drily. "You know that, right?"

Of course, even Varian could appreciate that there  _was_  a considerable amount of humour to be gleaned from the startling difference in his and Auriana's relative size _,_ but he certainly wasn't going to let Broll or Greymanein on his true opinion. They had been poking fun at him all day – all week, even - and Varian had decided that it was high time he got some of his own back _._  He fixed them both with his most terrifying glare, before turning on his heel and taking off into the deep forest without another word. He wasn't truly angry, though he was more than happy to let Broll and Greymane live in fear of his legendary wrath for a while.

 _Serves them right,_  he thought, as the guttural echo of Greymane's laughter followed him into the trees.  _Let them stew for a bit, while I catch myself a deer and win the hunt…_

He took a smooth path parallel to the game trail, reaching out with his enhanced senses as he ran. The forest was alive with a hundred different sounds and movements, and Varian had to concentrate sharply to separate genuine leads from the background noise. Almost immediately, however, he caught the trail of a young buck moving southwest, and he moved in for what promised to be an excellent chase.

As always, the hunt was one of the few places that Varian was truly in his element, and he revelled in the way his strong muscles tensed and shifted smoothly as he picked up his pace. He knew Elwynn Forest like the back of his hand, and he knew that there was a large glade about a quarter mile ahead that would give him a clear shot, assuming that the deer continued on its current heading.

Varian made sure to stay clear upwind, lest the deer catch his scent, and he moved as quietly as he was able through the dense undergrowth. It was hard to move quickly while also trying to be silent, but Varian was still confident that he could outpace the buck. In truth, this was the part of the hunt he loved the most, testing his wit and instincts against a wild creature in a contest where one false step would mean failure. If all went to plan, however, he could loop around to the southern end of the clearing, and have time to line up the perfect shot before the deer even realised he was there.

He quickened his pace, feeling his heart beat steadily faster as he leapt over a fallen log and looped around the outskirts of the glade. The bright sunlight filtering through the trees provided excellent visibility, and Varian could have scarcely asked for a more perfect place to set up an ambush. The deer was still travelling well behind, as Varian had hoped, and he had more than enough time to take cover behind some thick underbrush and nock his bow.

Varian's body surged with restless energy as he awaited his prey, his fingers drumming edgily on the shaft of his bow as he peered out through the trees. Hunting required a great deal of patience, a trait that Varian admittedly sometimes lacked, and it took almost of all his willpower to remain still and quiet. It didn't help that the hiding spot he had chosen was rather small for a man of his size, but he would endure any amount of discomfort if it meant winning the hunt.

After what seemed like an eternity, Varian finally heard the muffled thud of galloping hooves from somewhere nearby and he raised his bow, ready to take the deer out with a single arrow to the eye. He leaned forward eagerly, carefully scanning the area for the slightest movement or sound that would signal the buck's arrival. It was sometimes difficult to see the chestnut hide of a deer against the similarly coloured tree trunks, but Varian was sharp and determined, and he would certainly not be outsmarted by a single young deer.

A second too late, however, he realised that the sound of hoofbeats was coming not from the game trail to the north, but rather from the  _west_ , and he whipped his head to the left just in time to see an enormous forest boar come barrelling directly at him. He had been so well hidden that the beast must have failed to see him, and was about to run roughshod over his position. Varian swung his bow around urgently, trying to get a shot off, but the boar was too fast and too close, and it slammed into him with terrific force.

He roared in pain and surprise as one of the boar's tusks slid into the unprotected flesh of his left thigh and sent a great gout of blood spurting down his leg. The boar seemed equally shocked to have collided with an unexpected human, and it shook its mighty head in agitation as the force of its charge carried both itself and Varian off down the side of a hill.

Fortunately for Varian, the short tumble freed the boar's tusk from his thigh, and he was thrown about ten feet clear into a second small clearing. He had lost his bow in the initial collision, but his knife was still securely tucked in his belt, and he pulled it loose as he staggered back to his feet. The wound in his leg was deep and bleeding profusely, but with his adrenaline pumping he knew his movement would not yet be overly hindered.

Varian flipped his knife and caught it in a backhanded grip, dropping into a crouch as he prepared to face the boar's second onrush. The beast may not have intentionally hit him the first time, but it now clearly saw him as a threat. Elwynn boars were notoriously aggressive, and Varian knew it wouldn't stop until one of them was dead. It lowered its head, its bloodied tusks scraping across the forest floor, and with a feral grunt it gathered its muscles and charged.

The boar was incredibly fast, but even with an injured leg, Varian was faster. He lunged to one side, pushing off his good leg, and dealt a mighty slash to the boar's flank as it hurtled past him and rounded off through the trees.

 _That ought to even things up,_  he thought grimly, as the boar bellowed in anger.

He crouched down once more, gathering his considerable strength as he prepared himself for a second round. Fending off charge after charge would get him nowhere, and he knew his best chance was to finish the fight as soon as possible, before his wound began to take its toll. Varian was tough and strong, but even the strongest man could not hope to fight if he were to lose too much blood.

The boar came on again, slower this time, and once more Varian used his good leg to dodge swiftly to the left. This time, however, he did not permit the boar to run off, instead dropping his shoulder and ploughing powerfully into the beast's side. The boar let out a high-pitched squeal as it was knocked off balance, and Varian took the opportunity to leap onto its back. He clutched at the boar's bristly fur with an iron grip, steadying himself as the beast began to kick and buck in a futile attempt to throw him off.

Varian grunted painfully as the boar's frantic efforts jostled his thigh, but he simply  _refused_  to let go. His feet dragged roughly along the ground as the boar took off in a precipitous gallop, perhaps believing that Varian would be dissuaded by another charge. Gritting his teeth, Varian pulled himself forward desperately, and with a wild cry he drove his hunting knife directly into the boar's throat.

Unfortunately, the jostling of the boar's gallop meant the strike was not as deep or precise as Varian would have liked, and he was suddenly thrown to the side as the boar lost its legs and screamed in agony. His knife slipped from his hands as he rolled over and over through the underbrush, before finally coming to rest against the base of a large oak with a hard smack.

Varian immediately lunged to his feet, expecting the boar to be following close behind, but surprisingly he was now alone in the forest. He cautiously retrieved his knife from where it had been tossed aside, and limped awkwardly forwards until he finally found where the boar had fallen. The determined creature was lying on its side, breathing heavily as it struggled to get back on its feet. The hole in its neck whistled gruesomely with each laboured breath, and it was clear that the beast would never stand again.

Varian was not angry at the boar, of course, and if anything, he admired its tenacity. It had fought well, and in doing so it had earned a clean death. He knelt carefully by its side, staying carefully out of the way of its thrashing tusks, and quickly and silently slit its throat from ear to ear. Bright blood poured out over his hands as the beast surrendered to the blade, and Varian patted its shoulder soothingly as it gasped, shuddered and lay still. The forest felt suddenly silent, in stark contrast to the loud grunts and shouts that had echoed throughout the fight, and with a relieved sigh, Varian finally dropped down to rest tiredly but triumphantly against the dead boar's side.

* * *

By the time Broll and Greymane burst urgently out of the forest behind him, Varian had at the very least managed to staunch the bleeding in his leg with a tourniquet made from a torn sleeve of his shirt. Both men had come prepared for a fight, Broll having even transformed into a bear, only to quickly realise that Varian had been more than capable of handling himself. Nevertheless, Broll appeared distinctly concerned by the sight of so much blood on the ground as he shifted back, and he moved instantly to Varian's side with the green glow of druidic magic bursting about his hands. Of course, even Varian had to admit that the forest floor looked rather gruesome, though luckily for him, most of the blood on the ground belonged to the boar.

Once satisfied that he was not in any immediate danger of collapsing, both Broll and Greymane then proceeded to fuss over him like two mother hens, and it was only by accepting Broll's shoulder as a crutch that Varian convinced the pair that he was able to walk back to the horses. Greymane slung the dead boar over his shoulders, not wanting to let such an impressive kill go to waste, and together the three men slowly made their way back to the Westbrook Garrison.

The soldiers at the garrison were clearly alarmed to see their King emerge slowly and bloodily from the forest, and they immediately began an animated discussion about whether Varian required a stretcher or a gryphon. Broll even went to far as to just suggest that  _he_ carry Varian into the city on his back in bear form, before Varian firmly shut down the argument with a single raised hand. He was perfectly capable of riding back to Stormwind, despite what everyone else appeared to think, and he accepted only the aid of a tight bandage before mounting up on his waiting hunter.

Varian's small party attracted a great deal of attention as they made their way back through the city and into the Keep. It wasn't every day that the King appeared limping and covered in blood, and an excitable buzz followed at Varian's back as he stalked through his halls. He pointedly ignored the whispers, however, and made his way directly to Anduin's chambers for healing. While he hated to be treated like an invalid over a simple gouge to the thigh, he wasn't stubborn enough to believe that it would heal safely on its own, and he tolerantly submitted to the skills of his very surprised son.

After a quick conversation with Anduin, during which the Prince insisted that Varian promise return to later for more healing, he bid farewell to Broll and Greymane and limped determinedly back to his chambers on his own. Auriana was curled up in bed as he entered the room, a thick book resting between her slender white fingers. She glanced up as he neared, and her mouth fell open as she beheld the tear in his breeches and the bloody bandages about his thigh. Ignoring her own illness, she raced immediately to his side, and her beautiful features creased with worry as her eyes raked him from top to toe.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"I had an unfortunate run in with a boar," he informed her, sliding one hand affectionately into her dark hair and the other around her body. "Nothing to worry about, I assure you."

"Where were Broll and Genn?" Auriana growled hotly, her eyes flashing dangerously. "They're supposed to protect you."

"Easy," Varian murmured, tightening his grip on her slender waist. "It was no one's fault, just poor timing. I've had far worse."

"That's not the point," she muttered, pressing herself tightly against his chest with a sigh.

"You're going to get blood all over that nightgown," Varian warned her, though he made no effort to extricate himself from her fierce grip.

"That'd be a first," she scoffed drily, as she slipped her hand through his and guided him over to the bed.

Varian followed her willingly, and he sat in patient silence as Auriana carefully probed his wound. He might not have tolerated a fuss from Broll, Greymane, or is men, but he would not begrudge Auriana her exhaustive inspection. In a strange way, he even found her concern pleasing. She still looked unnaturally pale, but her fierce determination to keep him safe had brought some of the life back to her eyes. Of the two of them, she was the more likely to be injured or in danger, and Varian found it rather interesting to learn that her protective side apparently rivalled his own.

"You should be more careful," she murmured, taking a careful seat on the edge of the bed by his side.

"Rather ironic, coming from you," Varian retorted, trying not to smile. "Speaking of which - how was your adventure in the library?"

He had been concerned to learn that Auriana had doggedly pursued her poison theory in his absence, and he resolved to do whatever he could to dissuade her from recklessly pursuing any would-be assassins.

"How did… you talked to Anduin?" she muttered, her eyes narrowing. "That little traitor…"

"We spoke while he was healing my leg. He can't lie to save his life," Varian explained. "You know, if you keep escaping like that, I'm going to have to block off the secret passages out of this room."

He was mostly joking, though there was a ring of truth in his words that Auriana immediately noticed.

"I'm not your prisoner, Varian," she reminded him sternly.

"No, you aren't," he agreed quickly. "You're the woman I love."

Auriana gave him a long, serious look, before her expression softened and she placed a featherlight hand upon his uninjured thigh. Encouraged, Varian leaned across to pull her into a deep kiss, only to immediately regret the movement as his thigh twinged in painful protest. He let out a low groan, while Auriana touched a hand to her stomach as she was struck by a sudden wave of nausea. Evidently, neither of them would be fighting fit for a few days yet, and Varian was forced to reluctantly release Auriana from his passionate grasp. They exchanged a quick, amused look, and Auriana shook her head with a rueful chuckle.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" Varian sighed, gently brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Yes," she murmured, though a small, genuine smile played about her lips as she rested her head lovingly against his shoulder. "We are."


	8. Auriana

Auriana had a rough time over the few days immediately following her collapse, but within a week she had begun to feel like her usual self. Given that Varian had also been bedridden from his goring, she had been in excellent company, and she soon found that she didn't mind being confined to quarters with him at her side. They had spent hours talking about nothing, and  _everything_ , though Auriana began to realise that their connection had grown far beyond mere words. The normally stoic King of Stormwind seemed to take immense pleasure in courting her properly, and she found herself falling more deeply in love with him than she had ever believed possible.

Tyrande, Malfurion, and the night elf delegation had eventually returned home to Darnassus, though Broll had elected to stay on in Stormwind for some unspecified amount of time. Varian, of course, had no objections to his friend's continued presence in the city, and Auriana, too, had come to greatly enjoy the archdruid's company. He was both witty and wise, not to mention a good foil to the more sarcastic Varian; and between her newfound friendships, the peace and calm of Stormwind, and Varian's deep, abiding love, Auriana was shocked to realise that she was actually _happy._

It was a strange feeling, and deep down she had always wondered if she were doomed to live a life of gloom and isolation. She had been happy as a child, of course, but she had been whisked off to Dalaran at a very young age, and had hurtled from war to war ever since. The incident with Deathwing and the loss of her parents had done little to improve her naturally pessimistic outlook, and it was strange to finally want something other than revenge or mere survival. The rumours swirling around the Keep continued unabated, of course, but the more time Auriana spent with her King, the more she found it harder and harder to care what anyone else thought.

The only sore point was Auriana's continued insistence that she had been poisoned by persons unknown, and it had been the source of more than one heated argument between them. Oddly enough, Varian seemed almost fanatically opposed to the idea that someone might want to kill her, and he countered her with aggressive intensity every time the issue was raised. Auriana did her best to argue, certain that she had not been the victim of some bad meat, but as the days turned into weeks without any further incident, her suspicions slowly waned, and she gradually came to accept Varian's theory of an unfortunate, isolated event.

Auriana had also returned to her duties as an Archmage the moment Anduin had given her the all clear, and she had once again been surprised to discover how much she enjoyed the work. For the first time in her life, she had come to appreciate the value of deep, reflective study; though she suspected this was because she was finally reading tomes of such difficulty and danger as to satisfy her attention. Her powers had developed steadily since her unfortunate mistake with the magma elemental in Loch Modan, and she began to quietly dream of one day rivalling the arcane knowledge of the great mages such as Khadgar or Jaina Proudmoore.

Today, however, she was acting in a more hands-on capacity, having been dispatched by the Council to the Blasted Lands in order to track down a mage apprentice-turned-warlock who had fled Dalaran with several powerful stolen reagents. Auriana's target was not the first apprentice to have sought out darker powers than those taught in Dalaran, and he would certainly not be the last. Many returned in shame, while others simply lost their lives in their attempts to harness the kind of powers that were best left alone. In this case, however, the reagents the apprentice had stolen gave him the potential to cause some very real damage, which made him a high priority target. Auriana had been given permission to kill the young man if he could not be stopped, though she hoped she would be able to convince him to return to Dalaran.

Auriana had not been to the Blasted Lands for over year, since she had joined the Iron Vanguard to assault the Dark Portal. The area was just as dry and dusty as she remembered, however, and she wasn't looking forward to having to clear the red dust from her boots once she returned to Stormwind. It was also swelteringly hot, and judging by the brooding black clouds overhead, there was a fearsome storm on the way. The weather patterns in the area had been fundamentally altered by the original creation of the Dark Portal, and having no desire to be caught out in a fel-tainted tempest, Auriana resolved to finish her work quickly.

She had flown directly to Nethergarde Keep from Stormwind, and immediately struck out to the west on a borrowed gryphon. It was faster than travelling overland on foot, and would allow Auriana to cover significantly more ground before the storm hit. She was also glad to have the company of the gryphon, even if it couldn't talk. The geography of the Blasted Lands was largely bland and uninteresting, and the task of flying the spirited golden buck kept her occupied while she searched for any sign of rogue magic.

Eventually, she landed her gryphon on the western side of the Altar of Storms, a large structure south of the Horde settlement of Dreadmaul Hold. The latent powers of the Altar had once been used by the Horde during the Second and Third Wars, but it could also be used to draw on the demonic energies of the Burning Legion. Any magic user for miles around would be drawn to the spot, and Auriana figured it was as good a place as any to narrow down her search.

The air crackled with wild electricity as she dismounted, making her gryphon skitter nervously in response. He cawed and flapped his wings in agitation, and it took all of Auriana's skill to keep him in check.

"Easy," she said soothingly, stroking his beak. "If it's any consolation, this place gives me the creeps, too."

Auriana ran up his stirrups, and grabbed a skein of water and her dagger from his saddlebags. She worked as quickly as possible, not wanting to make the anxious gryphon suffer any longer than necessary. He had served his purpose well, but now Auriana would go on alone. She would be able to portal directly back to Dalaran or Stormwind once she had finished her task, or when the storm hit, whichever came first.

"Luckily for you, hunting warlocks is  _my_  job, not yours," she told the gryphon, slapping him firmly on the rear and sending him soaring off into the blackened sky. "Off you go."

Auriana raised a hand to shield her eyes as she watched the gryphon beat his powerful wings and angle towards the north east. Alliance gryphons were well trained, and she knew that he would return straight to Nethergarde. She then secured the dagger on her hip, and took a quick swig of water as she turned down a long path that criss-crossed its way across the cliff face to the south.

She gave the Altar itself a wide berth, shivering slightly as she looked back towards the circle of cloaked, behemoth figures. The stone humanoids almost seemed to speak to Auriana as she walked, and it took a great deal of her concentration to ignore their siren's call. She was sharply focused on her mission, however, and she forced the whispers of the Altar to the back of her mind as she set about scrying for any signs of fel magic in the area.

Unfortunately, it soon became increasingly obvious that a scrying spell would do little good. There was far too much wild magic emanating from the Dark Portal, that tracking the spells of a single rogue warlock was now a task akin to searching for a needle in a haystack. Nevertheless, Auriana trusted her instincts, and she was confident that the runaway warlock would be somewhere around the Altar. He was looking for easy power, which the Altar could most certainly provide, and it made sense that his base would be somewhere close by.

After a sweaty morning of searching all the caves in the area, however, Auriana was yet to find any sign of her prey. She had swept over the area twice now, and apart from some old bones and a very surprised basilisk, she had found nothing of immediate interest. Having now emerged from the southernmost cave for the second time, she was just about ready to give up her search, when her attention was suddenly caught by one small cave mouth higher up on the cliff above. It was partially hidden by a large, rocky outcropping, and was only truly visible from Auriana's current position, which was why she had failed to notice it on her earlier passes. The cave was close enough to the Altar of Storms that its energies were still felt, but well concealed from any prying eyes.

Auriana looked around for any sign of a path, though it was difficult to discern any variation in the sheer wall of red stone in front of her. She was sure there had to be some way up, but with limited time, she decided the direct route was best. The cave was only about fifteen feet straight up, and there appeared to be more than enough hand- and footholds in the red wall to facilitate a free climb. Of course, Auriana was no expert, but she was light and fit, and she managed to pull herself upwards with relatively little difficulty.

The familiar reek of fel magic hit Auriana the second she climbed up and over the lip of the cliff face, and she took a moment to gather her breath before peering into the darkness of the cave. She sent a small witch light out to illuminate her path as she carefully crossed the cave's threshold, and she quickly discerned that her rogue warlock was currently elsewhere. The cave was not especially deep, barely wide enough for three men to stand abreast, and certainly not large enough to conceal a humanoid from Auriana's sight. She doubted that the warlock had been using the cave for shelter, though judging from the dark, carefully drawn summoning spell in the centre of the stone floor, she had most definitely found his magical lair.

Evidently, he had been hard at work turning his magical talents to the summoning of the fel, and Auriana wrinkled her nose irritably as she pre-emptively drew on her own arcane power. Arcane and fel at once both polar opposites, and two sides of the same coin. Where arcane was order, fel was pure chaos; where arcane demanded discipline and control, the fel embraced instinct and recklessness. There were plenty of scholars who would argue that fel magic was the more powerful, but to Auriana, the arcane was the lifeblood of the entire universe, and was simply beyond comparison. Fel magic came easier, of course, and as the quicker route to power, it would ever appeal to young mages frustrated by the slow path to arcane mastery. Auriana had been studying magic for more than half her life, for example, but it would still be many more years before she matured into her full potential.

 _Assuming you live that long_ , she thought drily.

Auriana knelt and ran her fingers over the small animal bones that marked the outlines of the spell, feeling the raw, chaotic energy of the fel seethe beneath her fingers. In a way, it was strange that she had never fallen to the temptation of the warlock path. She had certainly struggled with addiction to magic, and her temperament more naturally favoured the wild, uninhibited essence of the fel. Something about the pure, perfect order of the arcane called to her, however, perhaps precisely because she  _needed_  that order, and she knew that she would never willingly embrace the forces of chaos.

 _No matter what the Legion seem to think_ , she growled inwardly.

As if sensing her thoughts, the rune circle beneath Auriana's fingers suddenly flared bright green, and she snatched her hand back with a soft gasp. The animal bones rattled in place, and the ritual itself seemed to demand that she activate the rune binding and complete the spell. There was a great deal of power in the cave, more than Auriana had expected from a newly turned warlock, and she kept her magic carefully leashed as she leaned in to inspect the runework more closely. Most of it seemed to describe a standard summoning ritual, though there were two runes in particular that caught her attention.  _Dregla_  was an unusually powerful choice for a novice, and was made even more dangerous by its placement beside a large rune that reminded Auriana of a thorned flower.  _Cyiq_ was a rune of unparalleled destructive potential, and while undeniably strong, was just as likely to spell doom for the caster as the caster's target.

" _Idiot_ …" she muttered under her breath.

"Get away from there!" someone shouted from the cave entrance, and Auriana leapt to her feet in alarm.

Her hearing was still poor, and she thanked the Light that the warlock had been stupid enough and inexperienced enough to announce his presence, instead of just killing her outright. He lunged into the cave, his eyes flashing angrily, and Auriana was surprised to see that he was a brash young worgen, barely a few years older than Anduin.

"I don't wish to harm you," she said slowly, raising her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture. "But I must insist that you return with me to Dalaran. I swear to you, you will be treated fairly, and with time you will be allowed to resume your studies."

"Harm me? I command powers beyond your reckoning, mage!" the warlock snarled, felfire already swirling around his long claws. "I have seen my destiny. You cannot stand against the Legion. Azeroth will burn!"

His teeth were bared menacingly, but Auriana could see that his hands were shaking badly. It also appeared that he had been injured by his own spellwork, judging from a large, singed patch of fur on his right shoulder. His eyes were feral, and in that moment, it was plain to Auriana that he was already half-mad from the use of fel magic. A heavy feeling settled in her gut as she realised that this encounter would likely end badly, though she still intended to offer him clemency. She had worked with a handful of warlocks who had the iron will necessary to successfully walk the thin line between power and madness, and knew it to be possible, but they were few and far between. Of course, after being betrayed by the coven on Draenor, Auriana found it hard to believe there were  _any_ decent warlocks left in the whole of the Alliance, and she had admittedly lost whatever small patience she had once had for their kind.

"You know," she said drily, cocking her head to the side, "You Legion folks need to come up with some new threats. If I had a gold coin for every time I've been fed that line… I would be an  _exceedingly_  wealthy woman."

The worgen warlock seemed unnerved by her apparent calmness, and he gnashed his teeth in agitation.

"Silence!" he snapped. "Your  _insolence_  will not be tolerated!"

"Yes, I've heard that before, too," Auriana said flippantly. "My insolence is quite legendary."

The worgen howled and summoned an uncontrolled burst of fel flame, but he was so strung out that the spell went wide, and Auriana barely had to lean to the side to avoid being hit. She could clearly sense his raw potential in the cast, and she sighed in disappointment. He would not have ever been as powerful as she, but he might have made something of himself as a mage had he been able to resist the temptation of the fel.

"If you surrender to me now, I will see that you are returned to Dalaran unharmed," Auriana repeated, her voice low and firm. "I will give you only one chance to step back from this path. I suggest you take it."

"The Kirin Tor do not know true power!" the warlock howled. "You cannot best me!"

"Do you  _really_  want to test that theory?"

As Auriana had unhappily come to expect, the worgen ignored her warning completely, and made to attack a second time. He was a creature of the fel, now, and there were no words that might have turned him back. Auriana sighed regretfully, though nevertheless prepared her magic for a swift and decisive reprisal.

The inexperienced apprentice worgen was hopelessly outmatched, and Auriana forced her way past his defenses as if they were non-existent. She stifled his attempted attack with a quick counterspell, before ending his life with a single, perfectly cast glacial spike through the chest. The whole thing took perhaps half a minute, and cost Auriana barely more energy than she might have used to swat a fly.

Auriana winced as the worgen collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, his face frozen in an expression of stunned surprise.

"Why does no one ever  _listen_?" she muttered, shaking her head.

She walked forward and crouched over the warlock's body, gently pressing a hand to his throat to ensure he was dead. It felt wasteful to have killed such a once-promising young man, but there was no doubt in Auriana's mind that he had passed the point of no return. He would not have come with her to Dalaran, no matter how many times she might have asked, and he would have gladly killed her if given half a chance.

With a sigh, Auriana straightened up and awkwardly dragged the worgen's body to the back of the cave, before folding his arms across his chest in a gesture of funerary respect. She then turned her attention to the warlock ritual on the ground, and began to carefully work to disrupt the rune circle lest it be used by any other caster with a mind for trouble. It was difficult to destroy the thing safely, especially under the threat of accidentally detonating the  _cyiq_  rune, but after about half an hour of considered effort, Auriana was eventually convinced that it could do no harm. As a final precautionary measure, she lit the worgen's body and his ritual supplies on fire, so that there was no chance he might be reanimated, or his work rediscovered by some other opportunist.

Once her grisly job was done, Auriana finally took her leave of the dark cave, and stepped blinking out into the light once more. The sky above had darkened even further, and from the looks of it, Auriana had finished her work just in time to leave before the storm hit. A violent wind swirled around her body, and the electricity in the air sent gooseflesh racing down the back of her neck.

Brushing a sweaty strand of dark hair from her eyes, Auriana made to open a portal back to Stormwind, when a sudden wave of pain lanced across her ribs. Startled, she turned toward the cave entrance, wondering if the warlock had managed to summon something before she had destroyed the ritual, when a second burst of pain shocked through her right arm. She glanced down in surprise, and was horrified to realise that she had been shot. A long, slender arrow shaft had completely penetrated the strong muscle of her bicep, sending rivulets of bright red blood pouring down her arm.

Her heart suddenly thundering, Auriana dived for the cover of the cave, only to pull up short as the ground in front of her was peppered with arrows. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she quickly raised a glittering frost shield in her defense, though she knew it would not be able to protect her for long. Auriana would have confidently backed herself against almost any living combatant on Azeroth or Draenor, but she couldn't fight what she couldn't see. Exposed on the bare cliff-face against an unseen sharpshooter, she was exceedingly vulnerable, and it would only take one good shot to end her life.

Auriana crouched down behind a small, nearby boulder, and risked a glance into the dusty valley below. Unusually for sharpshooters, her attacker or attackers were located somewhere on the lower ground, but appeared to be well concealed. Auriana couldn't hope to get a bead on their position from up on the cliff face, not to mention that the effective range of her spells was far outclassed by the range of a longbow. Her only chance was to close the distance and engage her would-be assassins directly, which meant getting to the valley floor as quickly as possible. She sighed, knowing there was only one real way down, and with a muttered prayer, she charged the five steps towards the end of the cliff, and jumped out into open space.

Auriana allowed herself to fall freely, only casting a slow fall spell to catch herself just seconds before she hit the ground, before she immediately blinked away to one side. Against bowmen, her best chance was to move as unpredictably as possible, though with wounds in her side and her shoulder, it was admittedly hard to change direction smoothly.

A flash of gold behind a large rocky butte to the south-east caught her furious gaze, and Auriana's eyes narrowed as she pushed herself into a full sprint. She blinked forwards twice in rapid succession, and felt the wind of an arrow's path as it missed her by inches. Growling in anger, Auriana set a mighty burst of arcane power racing across the valley ahead of her and shattered the rocky outcrop, sending two hooded men sprawling to one side and a large golden gryphon off squawking. The assassins had chosen their hiding spot well, but now that they were exposed and within range, Auriana was confident that she had the advantage.

While her physical strength was waning from her wounds, Auriana still had magic to burn, and she sent a punishing wave of frost lancing towards her two assailants. The taller of the pair howled in pain as he was caught in the leg by several long, vicious icicles, and his companion immediately sent another arrow flying at Auriana's head. She threw herself sideways behind a large piece of rubble, her damaged ribs screaming in protest, though she nevertheless managed to avoid taking another hit. Grimacing, she then forced herself to roll to her feet, but in that time the uninjured assassin had thrown his associate roughly onto the back of the gryphon, before swinging into the saddle himself. Auriana was forced to cover her head as the beast beat its mighty wings and kicked up a choking cloud of red dust, and she kept herself tucked firmly against her protective boulder as the gryphon leapt into the air and took off toward the north.

"Damn right!" she shouted fiercely, the wind whipping the words from her mouth as she stared up at the retreating creature. "You'd better run!"

Evidently, while the assassins had been perfectly happy to shoot at her from cover, they were not game to face her one on one, and had decided that it was best to flee. Belatedly, Auriana also realised that they must have followed her from Nethergarde Keep, if not from Stormwind itself, and she vaguely wondered how they had come to learn about her mission in the area.

"Cowards," she muttered, though she was rather glad that they had left the area so rapidly.

Auriana could clearly feel the effects of her blood loss as she slumped back against her boulder, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to stay functional for long. If the assassins returned, she would make an easy target, and so she quickly reached out a shaky, blood-stained hand to call forth a portal directly to Varian's study in Stormwind. She quickly stepped through on trembling legs, and felt her stomach lurch as the powerful magic carried her far away from the Blasted Lands.

As Auriana had hoped, Varian was hard at work, and he lunged to his feet as she abruptly reappeared, barely catching herself on the front of his desk. His eyes widened in alarm as he took in the arrow shaft protruding from her upper arm and he rushed instantly to her side, sending a stack of papers flying in his haste. A thousand different emotions flashed across his face as he placed a bracing hand on her uninjured shoulder, before he finally settled on an expression of resigned displeasure. Auriana reached out to grip his strong forearms as her legs finally failed her, and she collapsed awkwardly into his chest.

"So," she managed drily, though her voice was heavy and laboured from the pain. "Do you believe there's someone trying to kill me now?"


	9. Varian

Varian stared down at Auriana in shock, horrified to see an arrow protruding from the flesh of her right arm. He was, regrettably, used to seeing her injured, though he had typically only seen her  _after_  she had already received healing. It was a different thing entirely to feel her hot blood slippery against his fingers as he gently guided her into a chair, and even he was surprised at the strength of the visceral surge of fear that raced down his spine.

"You've been shot!" he exclaimed.

"Your… observational skills… are… astounding," she panted.

Varian pointedly ignored her sarcasm, and quickly set about inspecting her wounds. Aside from the rather obvious arrow imbedded in her arm, her ribs had clearly been grazed by a second shot, though how badly he couldn't tell. There was a fair bit of blood, though that didn't necessarily mean that the wound was deep.

"How's the pain?" he asked her.

"Bad," she admitted. "But it comforts me… to know that… my king is so… perceptually gifted…"

"Funny," Varian scowled, quickly tearing a strip from the bottom of his cotton tunic and pressing it to her side to staunch the bleeding.

Auriana let out a low moan and closed her eyes, instinctively flinching away from his hand. Her skin was somehow even paler than normal, and her breath came in short, ragged gasps as she tried to control the pain.

"Easy," he said quietly. "I'm going to call for Anduin. Here, keep the pressure on. I'll only be a minute."

Varian moved her good hand over his makeshift gauze to hold it in place, and gave her a worried kiss on the forehead before striding off towards the door. He shouted loudly for the guards, and immediately sent them off running to fetch Anduin. Fortunately, Anduin's rooms were only just down the corridor from Varian's own, though there was always the possibility he was off in the library or the Cathedral. There were other healers in the Keep, of course, but there were few people Varian trusted with Auriana's safety, and his son was the first name on that very short list.

After giving the guards their orders, Varian hurried back to Auriana, not willing to leave her alone for a second longer than necessary. She was still conscious, which was encouraging, though he could see that she was struggling with the pain. In the time he had been gone, she had nevertheless managed to divest herself of her boots and belt, and was now half-sitting, half-lying on the chair in what Varian assumed was an attempt to take some of the weight off her left side.

"Anduin will be here soon," he assured her, moving in to help her maintain pressure on her wounded ribs. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'll be… fine…" she groaned. "Not… the worst… I've ever had."

"Very convincing," Varian growled drily, nodding pointedly to her trembling hands. "Really, Auriana, you…"

"Father!"

Varian's reprimand was interrupted by a sudden shout from Anduin, and he turned his head toward the door to see his wide-eyed son come skidding around the corner. Anduin practically tumbled over in his urgency, and his mouth fell open in shock as he beheld the arrow through Auriana's arm and the blood on Varian's hands.

"Auri!" he gasped, immediately rushing over to her side. "You've been shot!"

Auriana barked out a strange sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cry, and she shot Varian a darkly amused look.

"Apparently... observational skills… run in the family…" she coughed.

"Quiet," Varian ordered sternly. "Your strength is better spent on things other than sarcasm."

He beckoned Anduin forward, stepping back to give the young priest room to work. Although he still looked rather shocked, Anduin gave her a swift, expert once over, gently pulling her hand aside to check the wound on her ribs. His eyebrows drew together as he worked in determined silence, and his hands flashed bright gold as he began to channel his powers. Auriana sighed as the Light entered her body, and Varian was heartened to see the stress on her face begin to fade as the healing spell began to take effect.

"Well, you're not going to bleed to death… but I'm going to have to cut you out of your tunic to get at better look at those ribs," Anduin murmured finally, blushing at the thought. "I'm sorry, I'm not going to be able to pull it over your head with that arrow in your arm."

"Do what you have to," she replied, somehow managing to give him a weak smile. "It's just… a tunic."

Anduin nodded, and turned to the satchel of basic first aid supplies that he had brought with him into the room. He quickly withdrew two neatly rolled bandages, gauze, and lastly a pair of long-bladed healer's shears, which he used to cut away at the sides of Auriana's fitted shirt. His ears turned dark red as her simple cotton undergarments were revealed, but he pressed on despite his bashfulness.

"What happened?" Varian asked, folding his arms across his chest as he watched. "I thought you were hunting warlocks."

"I was," she said, wincing slightly as Anduin raised her arms so that he might bandage her torso. "Quite successfully, I might add."

"And yet…"

"And yet," Auriana growled irritably, "I was not expecting the two assassins who showed up out of nowhere and started shooting at me."

"Why weren't you armoured?" Varian wondered, gesturing to her thin leather breeches and the remains of her loose cotton tunic.

"Good question," Anduin agreed, glancing up at his father briefly before turning his attention back to Auriana's ribs once more.

"I was expecting to fight some poor runaway apprentice, not a pair of trained assassins," she retorted, her brow furrowing heavily. "I didn't see the need for armour at the time."

"Auriana…" Varian sighed, unable to hide his exasperation. "I gifted you a set of armour for precisely this reason."

"But it's so beautiful!" she protested. "I don't want to ruin it. You know I'm not exactly… gentle… on armour."

"Better it than you!" Varian snapped.

He stared down at Auriana with a fierce scowl, though despite her weakened state she met his gaze with a steely glare of her own. For his part, Anduin shifted uncomfortably at the sudden tension in the room, and he looked incredibly awkward as he finished securing the bandage around Auriana's ribs. He then turned his attention to her arm, making her wince as he gently probed the impact point.

"Ah… on the bright side, it looks as if the arrow has gone right through your arm, and hasn't imbedded in the bone," he said, purposefully changing the topic. "If we can break the shaft here, I should be able to pull it straight out."

He gestured to a point between where the shaft left Auriana's arm and the arrowhead, and glanced across at Varian.

"Do you have a saw or an axe handy?"

Varian shook his head, but nevertheless went over to the small weapons chest he kept at the back of his study to withdraw a heavy bladed hunting knife. He didn't have a saw in his rooms, nor an axe small enough for such a delicate task, but fortunately the arrow shaft was thin, perhaps half an inch thick, and he figured the knife would do just as well.

"Close enough," Anduin shrugged. "I'll hold her arm steady, you cut the arrow."

He frowned at Auriana, and took a firm grip on her arm above and below the wound.

"I'm so sorry, but this is going to hurt," he warned her.

"Just get it done," Auriana grunted warningly.

Anduin nodded reluctantly, his mouth drawing into a thin line as he looked across at his father. Of course, Varian was equally reluctant to cause Auriana further pain, though he knew the arrow was far better out than in. He grasped the wooden arrow just behind the head, and cut through the shaft as quickly and as gently as he was able. Despite his care, however, Auriana cried out in agony, and her eyes brimmed with tears as Anduin slid the divided shaft from her flesh.

"Sorry…  _sorry_ ," he winced, clearly distressed by her pain. "I'm so sorry…"

Auriana's wound began to bleed heavily the moment the arrow was removed, and Anduin had his hands full trying to patch the gaping hole in her arm. She whimpered softly, and Varian looked away. He was not squeamish about blood, but he hated to see Auriana cry, and he paced testily back and forth as Anduin continued his efforts. More than anything, he hated feeling  _useless_ , though of course there was little he could do save for to watch and wait.

Finally, after what felt like an age, Anduin tied off the bandage around Auriana's arm, and sat back on his heels with a sigh. Fortunately, it appeared that he had been successful in not only treating her injuries, but also relieving her pain. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, and her breathing had slowed to a normal rate. Straightening, she brushed some of the unshed tears from her eyes, and she gave Anduin a grateful, if somewhat shaky, smile.

Abruptly realising that she was essentially half-naked, Varian quickly pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, and she crinkled her nose shyly.

"Thank you," she murmured, looking down at the bandages on her arm. "Both of you. Anduin – I must say, I'm impressed. The pain is already fading. I'll be up and around in no time."

Anduin practically glowed at the praise, but he gave Auriana a stern look as he clambered back to his feet.

"Don't push yourself," he said warningly. "Both wounds were clean, but that doesn't make them insignificant. I'll need to come heal you a few more times over the coming days, and I don't want you doing anyting strenuous for at least a week."

"And before you get out in the field again, I want you to resume your combat training with me," Varian added. "Although I understand that the war in Draenor took priority, I was displeased that we were unable to continue our sessions."

"What?" Auriana exclaimed, exchanging a confused glance with Anduin, who looked equally nonplussed. "I… what?"

"You need to be able to defend yourself," Varian said firmly.

"Have you forgotten that I'm an Archmage?" she argued, looking rather affronted. "I'm perfectly capable of defending myself."

"Magic has its limitations, and the more resources you have to defend yourself, the better. You never know what might happen on the field of battle, and I'd rather you be prepared," Varian insisted. "I want you trained in the sword."

"How would a sword have helped me today? I was  _shot_ ," she pointed out, gesturing somewhat sarcastically to her arm.

"Today is not… the best example," Varian conceded, "But I have been considering this for some time now."

He looked over to Anduin for some support, but the young prince simply shrugged and raised his eyebrows. It was clear that he had absolutely no intention of taking a side, and he very pointedly busied himself with clearing up his healing supplies.

"Is it your plan to have me trained on every weapon imaginable?" Auriana snorted. "Perhaps I should just take up druidry and shamanism while I'm at it."

"Is that possible?" Varian asked seriously.

"No…"

Auriana gave him a very strange look, and slowly shook her head. She stared at Varian as if he were touched in the head, but after a very long, silent battle of wills, she finally shrugged her shoulders in surrender.

"Alright, alright…" she sighed. "So long as we train privately. I don't need half the Alliance watching me flail around in the dirt with a pointy sti…"

Auriana trailed off abruptly, and frowned over at Anduin. Varian followed her line of sight, and realised she was looking at the remains of the arrow that he and Anduin had pulled from her arm.

"Wait… can I have a look at that?" she asked, holding out her hand.

Nonplussed, Anduin nevertheless surrendered the broken arrow shaft, and Auriana slowly ran her finger along the orange, white and silver fletching.

"I've seen this before…" she murmured thoughtfully.

"It's an arrow," Varian said drily. "They're actually rather a common item."

"That's not what I meant," she growled, giving him a withering look. "The fletching is familiar. I've seen  _this_ arrow somewhere before."

"Where?" Anduin asked interestedly.

"I can't remember…" Auriana sighed, placing the arrow back on the desk in frustration. "Unfortunately, a lot of people have tried to kill me… trying to recall any one incident when I've been under fire is rather… difficult."

"It'll come to you," Anduin assured her, "But in the meantime, you need to rest."

"I'll have the arrow sent to Shaw," Varian added. "Perhaps it might help his investigation."

He realised his mistake as soon as the words had left his mouth, but Auriana was far too clever to have missed the implication. Shaw had been quietly investigating Auriana's collapse during the time the night elf delegation had been in Stormwind, and while he had not yet found any evidence of foul play, he had continued to investigate the possibility that Auriana was under threat.

"Shaw's investigation…? Son of a  _bitch_ …" she swore, lunging to her feet. "You  _believed_  me?"

She swayed unsteadily from her blood loss, but she righted herself with what Varian suspected was pure stubbornness. Her eyes blazed with sudden fire, and as much as he wanted to force her back into the chair for her own sake, even he didn't dare touch her when she glared at him like  _that_. Meanwhile, Anduin looked as if he wanted to disappear into the floor, having lately developed the unfortunate ability to be present whenever Varian and Auriana got into a fight.

"I believed it to be a theory worth pursuing," Varian said sternly, folding his arms over his chest. "Not that anything has come of it thus far."

"How could you not tell me?" Auriana demanded. "We're talking about my  _life,_ Varian."

"Precisely!" he snapped. "Look how much trouble you get into when you're  _not_  looking for a fight… I cannot and will not allow you to go off hunting for the very people who are trying to kill you! You are far too reckless."

"Er… I should… um… leave…" Anduin mumbled, though his words were all but swallowed up as Auriana launched into a furious tirade.

"I am not a child!" she roared. "I am one of the most powerful magi on Azeroth, not some swooning damsel. What are you going to do, Varian, lock me up?"

"I just might!"

Anduin had been trying to sneak toward the door, but at Varian's shout, he paused, and turned back to face the two of them with his hands on his hips.

"Would you two stop?  _Please_?" he urged, his voice unusually heated

"Anduin..."

"No! I've had quite enough of your... bickering!" he huffed, his cheeks burning bright red. "You're both far smarter than this. Father… you know all too well the consequences of trying to protect someone beyond all reason. I would not think you would have to learn  _that_ particular lesson twice."

Anduin frowned knowingly, and Varian's chest tightened with guilt. Of course, he knew all too well that Anduin was alluding to his own difficulties with Varian in the past. Varian had been so desperate to keep his son safe following the loss of Tiffin that he had practically smothered the boy, and in doing so had nearly brought about the very disaster which he had sought to prevent. Their relationship had slowly improved over the years, though it had taken great effort on Varian's part, and great patience on Anduin's.

"That's exactly what I…" Auriana began.

"Oh, no," Anduin interrupted, thrusting a surprisingly aggressive finger in her direction. "Don't you start; you're just as bad as him! People are _allowed_  to care about you, Auriana, and they are  _allowed_  to look out for your wellbeing. Do you have any idea what it would do to him to lose you? What it would do to  _me_?"

Auriana opened her mouth to argue, but even her legendary fury seemed to burn out in the face of Anduin's wide-eyed earnestness. She appeared genuinely shocked to learn that he cared about her so deeply, and equally surprised in general by the fact that her life had so much value to others. It was something Varian had repeatedly tried to impress upon her, but something in Anduin's unusually passionate delivery had apparently convinced her where Varian could not.

"I… I apologise…" she muttered reluctantly. "I didn't…"

"Don't apologise," he insisted. "Do better."

Anduin stared down at her fiercely, though there was no anger or censure in his eyes. He was genuinely concerned, almost pleadingly so, and for the first time Varian truly appreciated what Auriana might have meant to  _Anduin_. She, too, seemed to have been struck by a similar thought, and she tapped two fingers pensively against her lips, before eventually conceding the argument with an odd twitch of her head.

Anduin then turned on Varian, looking at once both resolute and apprehensive.

"Father?" he asked pointedly.

"Your point is taken, son," Varian growled, his jaw cracking. "I assure you, you will not need to make it again."

Whatever force had possessed Anduin to speak his mind faded as quickly as it had arisen, and he turned a brilliant shade of crimson as he realised what he had just done. He was not usually one to resort to such forceful measures, though it seemed there was more of his father in him than any of them might have thought.

"Well… good," he murmured awkwardly, staring down at his feet. "That's that, then. Auriana, I'll come by tomorrow to check on your bandages. Er… have a good afternoon, Father."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and hurried out of the room, accidentally smacking his shoulder into the doorway in his haste. Varian made no attempt to stop him, and nor did he move to engage Auriana. He was not used to being shouted down by  _anyone_ , let alone his son, though he knew full well that Anduin had spoken the wasn't that he didn't trust Auriana, of course, but rather that he didn't trust anyone  _else_.

Varian eventually glanced sideways, and was unsurprised to see Auriana staring straight ahead, with a rigid set to her posture. Nevertheless, she was clearly making a concerted effort to remain calm, and she ran a hand through her dishevelled hair as she took several deep, steadying breaths.

"He's right, you know," she muttered finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the room. "We're both far too stubborn..."

Varian sighed and reached for Auriana's good arm, and cautiously pulled her toward him. She resisted slightly at first, but with a glance towards the place Anduin had been standing, she relented with a slight sigh.

"He's almost always right," Varian agreed, cautiously sliding his hands around her waist. "It's… incredibly annoying."

"Whose fault is that? He's  _your_  son," Auriana accused him, her blue eyes sparking.

"He is indeed," Varian nodded, "Though he's a far better man than I."

He frowned down at Auriana, and hoped she could see the sincere regret in his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that he was unable to resist the urge to wrap her up and lock her away from all the terrible things in the world. She was so incredibly  _precious_ , and Varian greatly feared what might happen if he were to lose her.

"Well… that's not true," she said softly.

"What?"

"You're the best man I know," she elaborated, glancing up at him shyly from beneath long, dark lashes.

Varian snorted.

"Well, you obviously haven't met many men," he told her drily, and she let out a derisive chuckle.

"I mean that," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I know. And… I am sorry," he murmured, gently cupping her pale cheeks. "I try to be better, but… when I think of losing you… I can't breathe."

"Varian…" she sighed wearily, turning her head to kiss one of his palms. "Nothing and no one is going to take me away from you."

"It seems that there are more than enough people willing to try," he snarled angrily.

"Let them do their worst. You'll protect me," Auriana said firmly. "Of that I have no doubt."

Her eyes were very bright, and Varian could barely believe the depth of her faith in him. He had done very little to earn her trust of late, and yet somehow, she was willing to forgive him all his considerable flaws. Anduin's little outburst had no doubt helped her to see his point of view, though Varian reminded himself that he might not be so lucky as to avoid her wrath a third time.

She shivered slightly, and instinctively moved closer to the warmth of his chest. Varian hadn't really noticed, but in the time since Auriana had appeared in his office, it had begun to rain heavily outside, and the temperature in the room had dropped considerably.

"Are you cold?" he asked, gently rubbing the small of her back.

"A little," she confessed. "I lost a fair bit of blood."

"Come," he murmured, offering her his arm and leading her over towards the large fireplace at the back of his chambers.

Varian kept an enormous bearskin rug in pride of place before his hearth, and he carefully helped Auriana settle herself down into a comfortable position on the soft fur. He then turned away to the fireplace, and had soon kindled a warm, crackling fire that brightened the otherwise darkened room. Auriana pulled her knees up to her chest as she stared thoughtfully into the flames, and leaned back ever so slightly as Varian sat down behind her and pressed his chest against her back. He stretched out his long legs around hers, using his vastly superior body size to ensure she was warmed from all directions.

"Better?"

Auriana nodded wordlessly, and rested her head back against Varian's shoulder. A profound silence stretched between them, despite their physical closeness, and Varian wondered what she was thinking. As time wore on, however, the lingering tension in her back and shoulders gradually started to fade, and together they began to breathe in slow, perfect unison.

"You know…" Varian said tentatively, gently running his fingers through the lengths of her silky hair, "Only you could go hunting for an apprentice warlock, and wind up the target of multiple assassins."

"I'm fairly sure they followed me from Stormwind," Auriana remarked drily. "They weren't just… waiting out in the Blasted Lands for a target to walk by. They knew who I was, judging from how quickly they ran when I got in close."

"I doubt there would be too many people willing to fight you one on one," Varian observed.

Auriana twisted slightly in his arms so that she might look back over her shoulder towards him, and a very small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Well…" she said slyly, " _You_  certainly weren't… if my duel with Broll the other week was any indication…"

"Don't kid yourself, woman," Varian rumbled, lowering his head to growl directly in her ear. "I am Lo'Gosh! The Ghost Wolf, champion of the Crimson Ring, slayer of dragons... I could take you."

He gave her his best mock glare, and Auriana shook her head in amused exasperation.

"Are you quite sure about that?" she scoffed. "Khadgar believes that when I fought Archimonde, I was the most powerful mortal being in existence on Draenor – or Azeroth, for that matter. I'd like to see you try."

Her eyes blazed with challenge, and she smirked confidently as she turned back to face the fire. Encouraged by her response to his teasing, Varian ran his thumb over the soft skin at the nape of her neck, smiling inwardly as she broke out in gooseflesh. She was so damn  _small_ , it was sometimes easy to forget how incredibly dangerous she really was.

"Khadgar said that?" he asked seriously. "You're really that powerful?"

"Well… for all of about two minutes, at which point my heart gave out," she said, shrugging her slim shoulders slightly. "And I had help. I had Nithramas, and I was draining every living mage in the vicinity."

"Still, it must have been an incredible feat. You  _are_  strong," Varian remarked proudly.

"Yes," she agreed quietly. "Stronger than I was when we first met, I think."

Varian knew that Auriana did not like to consider the upper limits of her potential overmuch, having spent most of her recent life trying to  _contain_  her magic, lest she inevitably lose control. Her work with Jaina Proudmoore and Kalecgos had given her far greater mastery over her rage, though deep down she still feared what she could possibly become.

"What did it feel like? To fight Archimonde, I mean," he asked cautiously. "I doubt I could even imagine."

"I don't really remember much," she replied, with a short shake of her head. "I remember… being angry, angrier than I've ever been… but at the same time, I don't think I've ever seen things more clearly. I simply…  _willed_  the universe to change, and it did."

Auriana finally relaxed properly against Varian's chest with a soft sigh, and thoughtfully entwined her fingers with his.

"I wish I could explain to you what it feels like to channel magic," she added, her gaze drawn once more to the fire. "It's beautiful, really. It's dangerous, and free, and... perfect."

"Just like you," Varian murmured, pressing his lips against the pale, graceful curve of her neck.

"Such flattery," she said quietly. "I didn't know you were so charming…"

"What?" he said gruffly. "I'm not allowed to be romantic?"

"You can, if you like," she assured him, "But you should know - I don't need romance, or flowers, or trinkets. I need… scowls, and… and overprotectiveness, and unnecessary sword fighting lessons. I need Varian Wrynn."

"Hardly  _unnecessary_ …" he protested, only for the rest of his objection to be cut off by a passionate kiss as she twisted around to face him fully.

Varian fell back lightly against the bearskin rug, being very mindful of Auriana's wounds as he pulled her down against his chest. She came with him unresisting, her dark hair tumbling across his shoulders as she caught his lips with her own. Varian could feel the rapid, excitable beating of her heart as she kissed him fiercely, and he could tell by the way she pressed her body against his that she wanted him to take her. She was always rather anxious to be intimate after they had fought, as if afraid that he might one day decide that she was more trouble than she was worth.

"Auriana…" Varian mumbled, trying and largely failing to ignore the heat building deep within his loins. "You're hurt… perhaps we shouldn't…"

"Varian," she said flatly, sitting up slightly so that she could look him in the eye, "If you had to wait until I was completely injury free to make love to me, it would  _never happen_."

Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and her impossibly soft lips were full and swollen from the passion of her kisses. Varian loved how wild and otherworldly she looked in the firelight, with her skin aglow and her eyes steely and golden. If anything, the bandages about her arm and torso only served to add to his impression, and he vaguely wondered why on earth he was trying to refuse the attentions of such a beautiful creature.

"Unfortunately, I think you might be right," he conceded.

"I suppose that means you'll just have to be especially careful," she suggested shyly, running a featherlight hand across the hard ridges of his chest.

Her already enormous blue eyes widened hopefully, and Varian realised he would not have been able to resist her even if he had wanted to.

"Hmph," he rumbled. "In that case…"

Varian growled deep in his throat and rolled, cradling Auriana with the utmost care as he pressed her back into the bearskin rug. He then set about removing her clothes as quickly and as gently as possible, until she finally lay beneath him in all her bare-skinned glory. The reflected flames danced across her skin, alternately highlighting and shadowing her every supple curve. She had filled out a little since she had returned from Draenor, having lost some of her hard muscle in favour of a lithe softness that Varian found immensely pleasing.

"Light, woman…" he grunted heatedly. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

Auriana smiled shyly and lowered her eyes, still as flustered by Varian's blatant appreciation as she had been the first time they had made love. Despite everything that had happened between them, she still seemed to find his desire for her somewhat unbelievable, and Varian wondered if she would ever truly understand the effect she had on him. The honeyed scent of her lust was at that very moment making him feel lightheaded, and he hungrily pressed her legs apart with a broad palm. He was no healer, but he strongly suspected that there were other ways to ease Auriana's aches and pains, and he was eager to put his theory to the test.

"Varian…" she stammered, her strong muscles tensing as he trailed a line of passionate kisses up the soft skin of her inner leg. "What are you…?"

Her trembling hands moved nervously to still his head, but Varian would not be swayed from his path.

"Hush…" he murmured reassuringly. "Trust me…"

Varian had always taken great delight in pleasuring a woman, but he was also very cognizant of Auriana's relative inexperience when it came to intimate matters. Her confidence had been slow to develop, and while Varian had been more than happy to proceed according to her comfort, he could not deny how much he longed to taste her. On any other day, he might have resisted, but there was something about the fire, the bearskin, and the rain outside that had awoken a very particular desire within him, and he wanted nothing more than to dive deep in between Auriana's silvery thighs.

His heart pounding almost out of his chest, Varian slowly lowered his head to her waiting sex, only to be utterly overwhelmed by the sudden rush of sweetness that flooded his mouth. The taste of her was far beyond anything he had imagined, and it was all he could do not to devour her like a wild animal. The spirit of Lo'Gosh howled fiercely within him, but Varian forced himself to remain calm, intending to prolong Auriana's enjoyment for as long as possible.

" _Oh_ …" she gasped softly, a faint note of surprise in her voice.

Varian paused his efforts briefly, unsure whether her exclamation was good or bad, when her hands found their way to his head once more. This time, however, she did not push him away, but instead tangled her hands in his long hair so that she might pull him in closer. Her hips instinctively lifted so that he might better find her most sensitive areas, and Varian smiled inwardly to himself as he teased her with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue.

Auriana's breath soon came in short, ragged gasps, and her hands tightened almost painfully in Varian's hair as she surrendered completely to his ardent attentions. Varian, of course, didn't care, so enraptured was he by the taste of her arousal and the way her body tensed and trembled at his touch. He never felt more powerful and virile than when he forced Auriana to lose control, and he growled with deep satisfaction as he worked her to her peak.

She came for him more quickly than he had perhaps intended, though Varian was certainly not disappointed to feel her body abruptly arch and hear her softly cry his name. A great shiver rolled down her spine and all the way into her toes, and she balled her hands into the thick fur of the bearskin rug as her body shook uncontrollably. Varian did not stop there, however, instead greedily drinking her down until she could take no more, and she was left utterly finished beneath him.

He sat up only when he had was satisfied that she had been thoroughly pleasured, and he looked down at his handiwork with immense pride. Gentle tremors ran along the length of her entire body, even after he had pulled away, and her brilliant blue eyes had darkened to a shade of lusty near-black.

"Light… Varian…" she moaned, her soft lips parting enticingly as she fought to catch her breath. "Need you… please…"

Never one to refuse such a lovely plea, Varian hurriedly divested himself of his clothes, and stretched out languidly on the rug alongside her. Bringing Auriana to completion had made him incredibly hard, and he was sorely tempted to simply throw her onto her stomach and have his way with her. He was not an especially gentle or sensual lover, being more passionate and animalistic by nature, though in this instance he remained determined to take his time. It was not only because she was injured, but also because he wanted to apologise; to say the kind of things that he could never hope to express in words.

Varian ran his weathered hand up the smooth skin of Auriana's outer thigh, and carefully raised her buttocks so that he might ease himself into her still-trembling body. He moved slowly, deliberately; savouring every second of their joining before he finally buried himself to the hilt within her. A powerful shudder ran down his back, and for a moment he simply cradled her close, silently marvelling at the way they fit together so perfectly.

He could have happily laid there forever, feeling the warm of her all around him and staring deep into her fathomless blue eyes. Auriana, however, seemed to have different ideas, and she began to move eagerly beneath him, clutching desperately at his broad back as she attempted to drive him to the edge of control.

"Now now, Auri," Varian murmured huskily, nipping at her neck to hide his wolfish grin. "There's no need to rush…"

He found her enthusiasm immensely pleasing, of course, but he nevertheless pressed a large hand against the curve of her hip, and held her firmly down against the bearskin. While  _Auriana_ had seemed to have forgotten about her injuries, Varian had most certainly not, and he would not see her come to harm, not even for the sake of their passion. Fortunately, she was exceptionally light, and it took barely any of his strength to keep her within his control.

Varian slipped his other hand beneath Auriana's lower back and lifted slightly, angling her hips so that he could drive himself as deep as possible within her. With a low growl, he pressed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes, and took up a steady, commanding rhythm. Auriana made delightfully soft noises every time he reached the zenith of his thrusts, and Varian's world slowly shrunk until there was nothing truly real to him save for the fire, the bearskin, and Auriana.

He found it sweetly torturous to take her so slowly, when every movement of her body and every sound that left her lips begged him to take her faster. She was exquisitely tight and wet, perhaps even more so than Varian had ever experienced, and despite his best intentions, he was only able to hold out for so long before his lust spiralled out of control. He was dimly still aware of the need to be cautious, but it wasn't enough to stop him from increasing his pace; slow at first, and then faster and faster as Auriana's soft cries urged him on. Varian reached out to catch her chin, turning her face upwards so that he might look her in the eyes; and as the incredible heat between them became suddenly overwhelming, he let out a last, exultant roar, and was finally spent.

* * *

For a long time afterwards, neither of them moved; the only sounds in the room the crackle of the fire and Auriana's soft breathing. It was warm, though not uncomfortably so, and Varian felt a wave of contented drowsiness wash over him. Auriana had closed her eyes, and she too, seemed perfectly happy to remain where she was, lying bare-skinned on the floor before Varian's hearth. Outside, the rain had given way to a proper late-afternoon storm, and a massive thundercrack sounded somewhere off in the distance.

Eventually, Varian lifted himself clear of Auriana and lay down beside her, knotting his fingers possessively through hers as he stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling. He perhaps should have returned to his work, but he supposed that Stormwind could get by without him for a single afternoon. He was not a frivolous king by any means, and for all that he had given for his people and for the Alliance, he figured he was well within his rights to be lazy, just this once.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, glancing pointedly at Auriana's bandages. "We don't seem to have ruptured anything, at least."

"You were very careful…" she assured him, turning her head to the side to meet his gaze. "And very… thorough. I suspect I'll sleep well tonight."

Auriana smiled shyly and lowered her gaze, and Varian smirked with a quiet pride.

"I love you," he murmured, reaching out to stroke one of her pale cheeks.

"I love you, too," she replied, leaning languidly into his touch.

She was so  _trusting_ , and some of the warm glow in Varian's chest faded as he remembered all that happened that afternoon.

"Despite everything?" he asked seriously. "I've not been my best for you lately. I…"

She cut him off with a swift, fierce kiss, and the sudden intensity of her gaze left Varian's mouth dry. Auriana may not have been the most open or effusive person, but her emotions ran deep, and there was absolutely no doubt in her eyes as she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his own.

"Oh, no…" she whispered, placing her hand over his heart with great reverence. "Not despite. Never despite.  _Because._ "


	10. Auriana

For the next two weeks following Auriana's near assassination, Varian had been overprotective to say the least, hovering over her everywhere she went and all but refusing to let her leave his rooms. Her arm had healed nicely, thanks to Anduin's considerable skills, but despite his promises, Varian had become frankly obsessed with her safety – or rather, more so than he already was. He seemed to think that there were assassins around every corner, and his foul mood was only exacerbated by SI:7's failure to turn up any promising leads. He had doubled the watch, as seemed reasonable, but had also insisted that Auriana be accompanied by at least four people everywhere she went, if he were not available to guard her personally. She had tried to be understanding of his anxieties, though she had to draw the line when had tried to convince her to have either Ridley or Crowther with her every time she went to the bathroom.

It was only when Varian had caught her sheepishly trying to sneak out one of the hidden passages in his chambers that seemed to truly appreciate how oppressive his concerns had become, and he had eventually, though unhappily, agreed to relax some of his more drastic standards. As something of an apology, he had also arranged for Auriana to take an informal tour of the city at his side, allowing her to get some fresh air, while at the same time exposing her to the peoples of Stormwind. He seemed very determined to integrate her into court life, and despite the gossiping, Auriana had to admit that spending each day in the Keep was not as nearly bad as she had initially expected. Certainly, she got along well with both Anduin and Genn Greymane, and even the nasty rumours had abated somewhat since she had so thoroughly embarrassed Cathelora and her friends.

Today, however, would be a day blessedly free from the confines of the stone walls of the Keep. As much as Auriana had tried to indulge Varian, for his sake, she could not deny that she felt smothered, and she was looking forward to being out in the fresh air of the city. Auriana had not even returned to Dalaran since she had been shot; though admittedly even  _she_  could appreciate that it would have been a bad idea to take on a mission for the Kirin Tor while carrying two serious injuries.

Despite her eagerness to leave the Keep, however, Auriana was very nervous about being out so publicly, and she had spent the last quarter hour standing half-naked in front of the mirror and staring anxiously at her reflection. Varian had offered her the use of two ladies' maids for more formal occasions, and she was immensely grateful to have had their help. Her hair shone with good health and care, and had been so elaborately pinned and coiffed that Auriana suspected it would take her the entire afternoon to let it down. The talented maids had also somehow made her eyes sparkle and her lips glisten, before powdering her cheeks so they looked as if they were perpetually blushed. Of course, it also helped that Auriana had also put on some much-needed weight since returning from Draenor, and she no longer appeared quite as stressed and gaunt as she once had.

Despite the maids' skill, however, Auriana couldn't help but to compare herself unfavourably to the other ladies of the Stormwind court. She might be able to dress the part, but there was no hiding the damage that years of fighting for the Alliance had done to her body. The enormous scar that ran down the length of her back was certainly the worst of it, though Auriana felt that no matter which way she turned, there was  _some_  kind blemish against her skin. The latest addition, of course, was the small, perfectly circular mark on her arm where she had been bisected by the would-be assassin's arrow.

She sighed in frustration and closed her eyes, pressing her hands irritably against her bare stomach, when her quiet reverie was interrupted by a sudden warm hand pressed against her shoulder.

"Varian!" she gasped, almost falling over in surprise.

The King had left earlier that morning to attend to some business with the Stormwind craftsman's guild, and she had not expected him to return quite so soon before their ride. He still seemed to be uncertain about taking her outside the protective walls of his Keep, and she hoped he had not arrived early to tell her that he had changed his mind.

"My apologies," he said quickly, catching her gently by the shoulders and holding her steady.

"I've told you a hundred times, don't sneak up on me like that," she huffed, tapping her bad ear. "You know I'm not good from behind."

"I happen to think you're very good from behind," he countered.

Varian slipped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head, staring curiously at her reflection in the mirror.

"Why aren't you dressed?" he asked. "Where are your maids? And your guards? Do you no longer wish to go?"

He sounded rather hopeful that she had changed her mind, but Auriana was not about to be dissuaded.

"No, no, nothing like that. I sent my maids away after they finished my hair… and my guards on ahead to the stables. I was going to put on my clothes, but I got… distracted," she admitted, staring down at her hands.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

"You're biased," Auriana retorted, though she couldn't help but to smile.

"What's bothering you then? You seem unhappy," he observed shrewdly.

"It's... unimportant," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Auri…"

She sighed reluctantly, though she knew there was little point hiding the truth from Varian. He was both very persistent and surprisingly sensitive to her moods, and would not drop an issue until he was satisfied that she was well.

"Another scar," she explained, lifting her arm so that he might see.

"That upsets you?" Varian asked, cocking his head to the side thoughtfully.

"It's stupid," Auriana muttered, unable to meet his eyes. "It never used to bother me quite so much, but now that I'm supposed to be a  _lady_ … ladies don't have scars."

"I see."

Varian frowned, and for a second Auriana wondered if he might laugh. To her great surprise, however, he stepped back, and quickly and silently began to unbutton his tunic.

"W-what are you doing?" she wondered, turning to face him. "We're already going to be late, do you really think we ought to be…?"

"Auriana… as lovely as you are, even  _I_ know that this is not an appropriate time," he said flatly. "No, I had something else in mind. Do you want to compare scars?"

To emphasise his words, Varian pushed back the sides of his tunic to reveal the heavy, well-defined muscles of his torso, and put his hands firmly his hips.

"Do I want to… what?" she asked, completely nonplussed. "Why?"

"Indulge me. A little game," he suggested. "Most impressive story wins."

Auriana raised an eyebrow, certain that he had to be kidding, but Varian simply stared back at her with a quiet, patient confidence.

"Well… I do have this  _one_  scar from plunging into the Maelstrom with a crazy, megalomaniac dragon who was trying to bring about the end of the world," she said slowly, touching a hand to her lower back.

"Admittedly… that's a tough one to beat," Varian conceded, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Though I will do my best. I received this little gift from his daughter."

He tapped a large scar just above his left hip, a strange pattern of mottled skin that had always reminded Auriana of scale mail.

"Onyxia?" she asked, leaning forward in interest despite her uncertainty.

"A small price to pay for her death," he growled. "I must admit… there are few things in life that have given me as much satisfaction as impaling that treacherous bitch upon my blade."

Varian's eyes darkened dangerously as he spoke, and for a moment he seemed very far away. Auriana lowered her gaze as he lost himself in memories of the tragic series of events that had lost him his wife and had nearly brought his kingdom to ruin, waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. It was not a topic she ever dared broach, figuring that it was far better to offer him her silent support than to force him to relive his painful past for her own curiosity.

"What about that one?" he said finally, shaking himself as he pointed to the crescent shaped scar on her lower abdomen.

"Gorehowl," she said, waving her hand flippantly. "But you knew that. How did you get the one under your chin?"

"I fell out of a tree when I was seven," he explained. "Broke my arm, too. Nearly scared the life out of my mother."

"Not the answer I was expecting," Auriana said, biting her lip to hide her smile.

"No?"

"I would have assumed you got it fighting naga, or demons, or something," she elaborated. "It's rather difficult to picture you as a small child with scabby knees."

"I didn't spring out of the womb fully armoured, you know," he growled drily, though his eyes shone with wry good humour. "Where'd you get the long scar on your thigh?"

"Ah," Auriana said, blushing slightly. "That one was my own fault, actually. I attempted a spell that was a bit too ambitious for my skill level at the time. The recoil sent me flying across the room and I shattered a large vase… with my backside."

"Looks like it hurt," Varian remarked.

"Not as much as you might think. The embarrassment was worse than the pain," she smiled ruefully. "Tell me about the deep one that runs across your forearm."

"Dire Maul. A troll threw an axe at me during one of my battles in the arena. It was either catch it with my arm, or catch it with my face," he shrugged. "What about the little one behind your right ear that looks like a fish hook?"

"A hozen held a knife to my throat when I was in Pandaria. He didn't have the steadiest hands," Auriana said darkly. " _Light_ , I hate monkeys."

A strange expression crossed Varian's face, and Auriana realised he was struggling not to laugh.

"You… you're afraid of monkeys?" he said incredulously.

"I didn't say I was  _afraid_ …" she snapped peevishly. "I just think when they gain sentience and start arming themselves we should all be somewhat concerned."

Varian smirked amusedly and shook his head, only to pull Auriana into his arms a second later. He leaned down to kiss her deeply, and suddenly none of her scars seemed even remotely important. She could  _feel_  the strength of his love echoing through her bones, and somehow, despite all her flaws, it made her feel beautiful.

"How do you do that?" she asked, breaking their kiss and leaning back so that she might look him in the eye.

"Do what?" Varian asked innocently.

"You know what," Auriana told him. "No matter what happens, you always manage to make me feel better.  _Always_."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he insisted firmly, his expression unreadable as he kissed her forehead. "Now, are you going to get dressed?"

Auriana nodded, and quickly pulled on the divided skirts and neatly tailored coat that she had laid out on the bed. She had briefly considered wearing a proper dress, only to remember how much she had hated when her grandfather had forced her to ride side-saddle as a child. Varian hadn't seemed to care overmuch, so long as she looked appropriately formal, and in the end, she had unsurprisingly chosen practicality over prettiness.

Once she had finished dressing, Varian offered her his arm and lead her down to the Keep stables, where the rest of their retinue was already waiting. A squad of Varian's elite guard were mounted on their armoured steeds, waiting patiently alongside Auriana's two personal chaperones, Ridley and Crowther, and Broll Bearmantle.

"Archdruid!" Auriana said warmly, moving to greet him while Varian spoke quietly to the captain of his guard. "You're accompanying us into the city?"

The antlered night elf had been staying in the Keep ever since the rest of his people had returned to Darnassus, and Auriana had come to sincerely enjoy his company. In some ways, he reminded her of Khadgar, having a similar air of venerable wisdom, though his deeper nature reminded her more of Varian. There was always a hint of wildness in his eyes, even when was in his night elf form, and Auriana knew that the great bear that hid within his heart was never too far from the surface.

"Good morning, Archmage," Broll replied, smiling down at her good-naturedly. "I had thought to accompany you - it's such a lovely day, and you know how my kind love the outdoors…"

"So, what you mean to say is… Varian asked you to watch over me," Auriana guessed, glancing back at her beloved King. "I assume you heard about my little… adventure the other day."

"I did. And he  _may_  have mentioned something about a second pair of eyes," Broll agreed, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "You're far too clever for him, you know."

"No, he's just not as subtle as he likes to think he is," she shot back, smiling as Broll smothered a laugh with his hand.

She had spoken quietly, but Varian had uncommonly good hearing, and the sound of his name had clearly caught his attention. He strode determinedly towards Broll and Auriana with his hands folded across his chest, and stared curiously back and forth between them.

"What are you two talking about?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Auriana and Broll said at the same time, each pointedly trying to avoid the other's gaze.

"Remind me again why I introduced you?" Varian scowled, seemingly at once both amused and irritated by their secrecy.

"Because you're a glutton for punishment, old friend," Broll suggested, turning away to mount his horse with a smile.

Varian gave Auriana a demanding look, but she simply shrugged impishly and went to see to her own mount. As usual, Varian had seen to it that the hands had saddled Cranewing, the hunter that Auriana had ridden the first time she had travelled socially with the King. She had since come to enjoy the swift dapple grey as her preferred mount, and she stroked his muzzle affectionately before pulling herself up into the saddle.

Once everyone had got themselves settled, Varian took his horse in hand and lead the way out of the stables, with Broll and Auriana not far behind. There seemed far too many guards for the protection of only three people, but Auriana was not going to create an argument when she was finally able to leave the Keep. Instead, she watched silently as they had taken up their positions in a protective ring around both her and the King, and together the small group trotted leisurely down the grand promenade at the centre of Stormwind.

Broll quickly struck up an animated conversation with Auriana as they rode, and she was immensely glad for the distraction. It seemed that word of the King's ride had travelled fast, and a large number of Stormwind's citizens had come out to see him pass. Where Varian looked calm and lordly, however, Auriana simply felt awkward and exposed. Cranewing pranced skittishly beneath her as he felt her tension, and she had to work very hard to maintain her composure.

Their first destination was the Cathedral Square, both to visit the magnificent Cathedral itself, as well as the Stormwind orphanage. Auriana was not especially religious, but even she could appreciate the beauty of the Cathedral and the overwhelmingly serene power that pervaded every corner of the building. Afterwards, they had gone directly to the orphanage, where Auriana had been surprised to learn that Varian was a firm favourite amongst the children. Most of the orphans had lost their parents as a result of the many conflicts that had engulfed the Alliance in recent years, and Varian had taken a great interest in ensuring that they were suitably looked after. He was much less guarded and stoic around the excited younglings, and Auriana had greatly enjoyed watching the way he smiled as they gambolled about him.

Eventually, however, they left the orphanage for the Trade District, before looping around and heading north towards Old Town. Crowds continued to gather as Varian lead his small retinue further on through the city, though they were careful not to get too close. The heavily armed guards were a considerable deterrent, of course, but Auriana could also see just how much respect that Varian commanded from his people, his every movement echoing with silent authority. As the group approached the bridge connecting the two quarters, however, a group of laughing children suddenly spilled into the road, and Auriana was forced to pull up to avoid trampling them. As with most children, they were completely oblivious to the potential danger, or the disturbance that they had caused, and it was some time before Auriana was able to get her horse moving once more.

As a result, the group was left divided, with Varian, Broll, and most of the guard ahead, and Auriana and her personal guard lagging behind. They were now about a hundred yards apart, and the King twisted anxiously in his saddle the moment he realised she was no longer by his side.

"Auriana?" he called, but she waved him off with a smile.

She was still flanked on both sides by her personal guards, and she was perfectly confident in their ability to keep her safe. Despite her initial reluctance to be guarded, Auriana had to admit that Ridley and Crowther were much less intrusive than she had imagined. They were also surprisingly good conversation, both having had military careers as long as Auriana's own, and she had started to see them more as friends than guards.

Additionally, riding some ways back from Varian attracted far less attention than riding at his side, and Auriana found herself truly relaxing for the first time since they had set off that morning. She even went so far as to return the waves of a few young girls, when her attention was suddenly drawn by a tall, lanky man hovering at the edge of the nearby crowd. He had mottled black and silver hair, with a distinctive nose that had clearly been broken several times, and with a start, Auriana realised she had seen him before. She was almost certain that he had been in the crowds that had gathered outside the Cathedral, and she found it very strange that he would have followed them this far. Of course, he wasn't doing anything particularly unusual, but something about his overall demeanour struck Auriana as deeply unsettling.

"Ridley…" she started slowly, only to realise a second too late that her instincts were right, and that something was terribly wrong.

She threw up a magical shield powered by pure desperation, but her shouted warning was swallowed by a massive wave of sound and heat as a bomb exploded somewhere nearby. Auriana found herself flying through the air like a ragdoll, and she cried out in pain as she was slammed hard into the ground. She made a futile attempt to shield her head with her arms as a storm of debris rained down upon her; curling her body up as small as it would go.

Auriana lay trembling on the ground for what seemed like an eternity, when at long last she finally dared look up. Someone nearby was screaming, but the ringing in her ears was so loud that they sounded very far away. She also couldn't see anything amidst all the smoke and dust in the air, and with a rising sense of panic she realised that Varian and the other members of their entourage were most likely dead.

"Varian?  _Varian!_ " Auriana cried, but there was no answer.

She groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position so that she might better see, and her jaw dropped as she took in the dreadful scene. One side of the bridge across the canal had collapsed into the water, and there was now a massive hole in the side of a nearby shop. Several guards lay sprawled and unmoving across the cobblestones, and everything was covered in a layer of fine white powder. With a start, Auriana also realised that her horse was missing, though she couldn't specifically remember being thrown.

"Ridley?" she choked, her voice hoarse and strained. "Crowther?  _Anyone_?"

Auriana desperately scanned the area for any sign of life, but the only movement was the horrified crowd slowly gathering around the bomb site. She became increasingly panicked as she looked around, when her frantic gaze fell upon the only person in the vicinity not transfixed by the aftermath of the bomb. Where every other person was inclined to move  _forwards,_ either to watch or to help free victims from the debris,  _he_  had instead had begun to back away towards Old Town.

He was not in a hurry, as if running for help, but was rather walking as slowly and casually as if he'd just watched a street performance, instead of a deadly explosion. Auriana blinked dazedly in confusion, her instincts screaming in alarm, and as their eyes met she abruptly recognised him as the man who had so unnerved her earlier. He smiled knowingly, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a way that she found profoundly unnatural, and with a wry nod of his head, he turned and vanished into the milling crowd.

"Hey!" she shouted, her voice sounding oddly muffled in her own ears. "Stop!"

Ignoring the stabbing pain in her side, Auriana kicked herself free of the debris covering her legs, and dragged herself to her feet. A wave of vertigo crashed over her and she nearly fell, but she kept herself upright through an act of pure will. Her hands were covered in blood, though whether it was her own or someone else's, Auriana couldn't tell. There was no time to check, however, if she was going to catch the bomber, and she half-ran, half-limped off after him as fast as she could.

Distantly, Auriana thought she heard someone call her name, but she was so focused on her target that she didn't even pause. Normally, she might have left such a pursuit to the guards, but she figured that they would have been drawn to the bomb site, and she did  _not_ want to risk losing her only lead on the perpetrators. She gingerly tapped into her rage, using the sudden burst of adrenaline to push through the pain of her injuries, and she caught sight of the strange smiling man as she barrelled blindly around the corner into Old Town.

Auriana realised must have looked rather deranged, staggering through the streets of Stormwind with her skirts in tatters and blood all over her hands, but there was no chance in hell that she going to let the bomber escape. People instinctively parted before her, clearly not wanting to involve themselves in the affairs of a possible madwoman, though it admittedly made the chase much easier. Auriana was moving haphazardly as it was, unable to either see or hear properly, and she didn't want to have to try to dodge innocent bystanders as she ran.

Ahead, the smiling man had increased his pace, evidently realising that she was more dogged than he had perhaps anticipated. Auriana blinked forward wherever possible to close the distance, and even managed to get with within sixty yards of her prey before he ducked into a side street and attempted to lose her amid a bustling marketplace.

"Stop!" she shouted, though she was unwilling to use her magic where there were innocent citizens who might be harmed in the crossfire.

A dwarven merchant abruptly stepped out in front of her with an armful of freshly wrought axes, making Auriana yelp in surprise as she threw herself sideways to avoid a head-on collision. Her feet slid unsteadily out from beneath her, and moments later she crashed into a second merchant's cart of wares, sending dozens of apples bouncing across the cobblestones. The impact sent her reeling backwards into the side of a nearby shopfront, though she managed to use the momentum of her fall to bounce herself off the wall and keep running.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry…" she shouted back over her shoulder.

Auriana growled in irritation as she picked up speed, frustrated by the delay. In the time she had wasted falling over the merchants, the smiling man had once again opened up a considerable lead, and she knew she couldn't continue the chase for much longer. Her breathing was heavy and laboured, far more so than usual, and she was growing increasingly dizzy.

 _If you can't run faster, run smarter,_  she snapped inwardly.

Auriana may have been born in Lordaeron and raised in Theramore, but she considered Stormwind her true home, and she knew its streets like the back of her hand. On his current trajectory, the smiling man seemed to be heading back out towards the canal roads that lead to the Dwarven District. It was a risk, but Auriana trusted her instincts, and instead of following him directly, she abruptly changed tacks and slipped down a long side alley that she knew would bring her out to the canals faster.

Digging deep into her flagging reserves of energy, she pushed herself into as fast a sprint as she was able, and was rewarded for her efforts as she flew out into the open only a few yards behind her prey.

"I… said…  _stop!_ " she screamed.

Auriana flicked her wrist, and a pair of illusory arcane shackles rocketed from her fingertips to take the smiling man in the ankles. The shackles weren't permanent, but the magic was powerful enough to give any opponent pause, and he stumbled, plunging knees first into the hard stone street. He let out a howl of genuine surprise, and Auriana quickly raced to spot where he had fallen. She kicked him over onto his back, taking no small pleasure in the act, and glared down at him furiously.

"Who  _are_  you?" she demanded, her voice sounding unnaturally quiet beneath the ringing in her ears.

"No one of consequence, I assure you," the smiling man said smoothly, pulling himself upright into a casual sitting position.

His air of unconcerned nonchalance irritated Auriana to no end, and if not for the fact that she desperately wanted answers, she would have killed him right then and there. A few curious onlookers had begun to gather, having followed the chase through the Stormwind streets, but Auriana only had eyes for the smiling man.

"You set that bomb," she snarled. "Why?"

"You have many questions, my lady, but unfortunately there are precious few answers to be had," he replied, shrugging.

"Do  _not_  speak to me in riddles," Auriana said warningly, kindling a threatening pyroblast between her hands.

"Very well," he said slowly, showing a flicker of fear for the first time as he glanced up at her flaming hands. "Though if you want answers, I suggest you start asking the right questions."

"The right questions?" Auriana snapped. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're not the only target of value in Stormwind," he drawled lazily.

She could barely  _hear_  the smiling man over the pounding in her ears, and she was far too disorientated to play games. Now that she had stopped running, she finally understood how exhausted she truly was, and she could only hope that the bomber would not come to the same realisation. Despite her fury and her bluster, right now she wasn't sure if she could have fought a child, much less a fully grown man. Strangely enough, however, the bomber simply stared up at her serenely, and it was in that moment Auriana realised that he had  _wanted_  her to chase him. He shifted his gaze up towards Stormwind Keep with a knowing smile, and she felt her heart leap into her throat.

"Anduin…" she gasped, the flames between her fingers fizzling out as she whirled to follow the bomber's line of sight.

"Until next time, Archmage…"

The bomber used Auriana's moment of temporary distraction to roll to his feet, and in a split second he had dashed forward and leapt into the canal, boots and all. Auriana gnashed her teeth irritably, torn between giving chase and returning to the Keep, though of course her first priority would always be to protect the Prince.

With a last great effort, Auriana summoned her powers and teleported immediately to Varian's chambers, as the closest point to Anduin that she could safely reach. She threw herself out into the hall, ignoring the surprise of the nearby guards, and hurtled down the corridor towards the Prince's rooms. Fortunately, Anduin inhabited the same wing of the Keep as his father, and she prayed that she was close enough to save him from whatever calamity the smiling man had wrought.

Auriana's battered legs screamed in protest as she slid around the last corner before Anduin's rooms, and she blasted the lock open with a savage burst of arcane magic. Normally, she might have attempted such a spell with a bit more finesse, but right now there was no time for delicacy. The heavy wooden door disintegrated before her, and she staggered forwards, pressing a hand to her ribs as she tried to catch her breath.

Anduin was sitting quietly at his desk, buried neck deep in a pile of enormous books, each as thick as Auriana was wide. He seemed lost in his work, though he was certainly not so distracted as to fail to notice the destruction of his door, and he sprang to his feet in alarm as Auriana barrelled into the room.

"Auri…?" he wondered, his eyes widening. "What are you…? Is that  _blood_?"

Ignoring the question, Auriana immediately began to tear through the room, looking for anywhere someone may have hidden a bomb. She pushed the Prince rudely out of the way so that she might check under his desk, before she moved on to his closet, his footlocker, and any other likely place. A rising sense of panic swelled in her chest with each failed attempt to locate the bomb, until her probing hands finally found a large metal device beneath his bed.

"What is  _that_?" Anduin asked, involuntarily taking a step backwards as she pulled it free.

To Auriana's inexpert gaze, the bomb had the characteristic haphazardness of goblin design; though she had no doubt that what it lacked in artistry, it would more than make up for in destructive power. She placed it gently on the bed, being careful not to accidentally pull any wires, and flipped up a panel on the casing to reveal the timer.

"Oh, that's not good…" she breathed.

There were only eight seconds left on the countdown; barely enough time to get to the door, and certainly not enough time to open a portal …

"Anduin," Auriana panted desperately, lunging forward and catching him roughly by the shoulders. "Do you trust me?"

" _What_?"

"Good enough."

Without waiting for any further comment, Auriana grabbed the Prince of Stormwind tightly by the scruff of the neck, and frogmarched him over to the nearest window. Fortunately, Anduin was far too shocked to resist, merely starting a little in surprise as she sent a blast of arcane energy racing ahead to shatter the glass. A sudden gust of cool air rushed into the room as Auriana forced Anduin up onto the ledge, and as the last few seconds ticked over on the bomb's timer, she muttered a prayer and sent them both flying out the window into open space.


	11. Anduin

For a moment, Anduin knew nothing but blinding white, as the force of the explosion threw him far from the Keep. Strangely, he flew through the air almost peacefully, his body enveloped in a warm glowing light that hugged him as tight as a cocoon. He knew there was a great burning heat all around him, but somehow, he remained untouched as he plummeted downwards. Fortunately, his rooms were on the north-western side of the Keep, above the lake, and it seemed that the force of the bomb blast had been enough to propel him out over the water. It was still a considerable fall, but tumbling into the lake was a certainly preferable to hitting solid ground.

Anduin had just enough time to close his eyes as the rippling surface of the lake raced up to greet him, and he plunged into the water with fantastic force. It hurt more than he had expected, and he involuntarily swallowed a mouthful of water as the force of the impact pushed the air from his chest. There was nothing but silence beneath the surface, in stark contrast to the roar of the bomb that had destroyed his room, and he would have found it almost serene if not for his tortured lungs screaming for air. He kicked desperately upward, gasping as he broke the surface, and immediately turned and paddled for the nearest shore.

He was a good swimmer, having learned when he was very young, but with his muscles bruised and battered from the explosion, it felt like an age before he finally crawled gracelessly up the bank and flopped down onto his stomach. The water still lapped at his toes, but he didn't care so long as he could feel the comforting solidness of the ground beneath his hands. He slid his fingers through the long grass, taking a few moments to regain his breath, when he abruptly realised that he was entirely alone.

"Auri?" he cried frantically, his own voice sounding faint and echoing in his ringing ears.

He brushed his sopping hair back from his eyes as he rolled and sat up, looking for the slightest bubble or ripple that might indicate that Auriana was still alive, but saw nothing. The lake was still and quiet beneath the soft golden sunlight streaming down from above, and Anduin quietly began to panic. His heart in his throat, he began to frantically unlace his boots so that he might jump in after her, when a firm hand closed over his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Anduin… my son…"

Anduin started in shock, and looked up to see his father looming above; Varian's heavily scarred eyes dark with indescribable emotion. He fell to his knees at Anduin's side, his breath catching strangely as he pulled Anduin into a suffocating embrace.

"Are you hurt?" Varian demanded.

"I'm… f-fine…" Anduin gasped, trying unsuccessfully to extricate himself from his father's crushing grip. "But… Auri… she didn't… come up…"

Varian's eyes widened in alarm as he twisted towards the water, and he looked horribly torn between his clear desire to rescue Auriana, and his need to maintain his desperate hold on Anduin.

"I'll get her," said a second voice nearby.

Anduin peeked out over Varian's shoulder to see Broll Bearmantle appear on his other side, the druid's golden eyes sharp as he gazed out across the lake. Curiously, it seemed that both of his long, green eyebrows had been singed off, though Anduin had no time to ask why before Broll leapt into the water and shifted into his aquatic form. He raced across the surface at fantastic speed, before diving deep beneath the surface with a flash of his silvery fins.

Varian's grip on Anduin's arm tightened painfully, and it seemed like an eternity had passed before Broll finally surfaced with Auriana awkwardly tucked beneath one of his flippers. He clearly found it difficult to swim while towing her at the same time, but he somehow managed to half-push, half-drag her to the edge of the lake.

"Is she breathing?" Varian asked anxiously, as Broll resumed his night elf form and pulled Auriana up onto the grassy bank.

Anduin felt his father's entire body stiffen as Broll turned Auriana on her side, and channelled a burst of powerful nature magic into her body. For a moment, nothing happened, until Auriana suddenly let out a great gasp and began to cough violently as she expelled the water from her lungs. Broll gently held her dripping wet hair back as she retched, and after a few minutes of violent spluttering she finally began to breathe normally.

"Urgh…" she mumbled quietly. "What a day…"

"Auri…" Varian murmured, the relief in his voice practically tangible.

He relinquished his death grip on Anduin's shoulders and turned to Auriana, gently pulling her into a sitting position and wrapping her in his arms. Varian's expression was as dark and hollow as Anduin had ever seen it, and he thanked the Light that she was still alive.

"I'm… fine… I just… need… a minute," Auriana said faintly, resting her head against Varian's chest as she took several deep, greedy breaths.

"You saved my son," Varian said softly. "I saw your magic..."

"Of course," she replied, glancing at Anduin and giving him a weary smile. "I would never let anything happen to him."

"When you disappeared after the first attack, we thought you had been killed," Broll said quietly. "Varian was rather… er… displeased."

Anduin knew that 'displeased' was likely putting it mildly, when he abruptly realised that he was focusing on entirely the wrong part of Broll's statement.

"Wait a minute… the first attack? There was another bomb?" he interjected incredulously.

Varian's mouth drew into a thin, angry line as he nodded, and he and Broll exchanged a dark look. Auriana pulled away from Varian slightly, though her fingers remained intertwined with his, and she frowned pensively.

"We got hit going into Old Town," she explained bitterly. "I saw the bomber right after the explosion, he was watching me... I couldn't let him get away, so… I chased him…"

"Auriana…" Varian growled reproachfully.

"You're lucky I did!" she protested fiercely. "If he hadn't started gloating, I never would have got to Anduin in time."

"I'm certainly not complaining," Anduin said lightly, placing a calming hand on his father's shoulder.

Varian glowered angrily, but he could hardly argue when the vindication of Auriana's brave choice was sitting right in front of him.

"How did you find us?" she wondered, glancing up to the gaping hole in the side of the Keep that had once been Anduin's rooms.

"I was transporting Varian back to the Keep, when we heard the explosion and saw you two go flying into the lake," Broll explained.

"We got here as fast as we could," Varian added.

"And we should leave with similar haste," Broll said, glancing warily around. "Whoever planned this attack is likely disappointed by its failure, and may attempt to redress the situation while we are vulnerable."

The powerful muscles in his back shifted and rolled, and a second later he had transformed into his mighty bear form. He raised his sensitive nose to the air and sniffed, growling protectively as he loped off to scout the way back to the Keep.

"I agree," Varian said, pulling Auriana with him as stood. "Anduin – can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk," Anduin insisted, pulling a piece of stranglekelp from his hair. "I'm just a bit… damp, is all."

He clambered awkwardly to his feet, ignoring the dull throb of pain in his chest from where he had hit the water, and stood as tall and as confidently as he was able. Varian's critical gaze raked over him from head to toe, and Anduin didn't want to give his father any more reason to worry. His ears were ringing horribly, but he had enough experience as a healer to know that he had not sustained any serious damage. At worst, he would have a few impressive bruises, and it would take a few days for his hearing to return to normal.

"I tried to shield you from as much of the damage as I could," Auriana supplied. "I couldn't stop the explosion, but..."

"Well, whatever you did, it worked," Anduin assured her, belatedly realising that she must have been the source of the strange light he had seen as he fell. "I promise you, Father, I'm perfectly well."

"Still..." Varian growled, "I'm going to have a healer look you over. And you, Auri."

Anduin thought Auriana might argue, as she usually did when Varian attempted to enforce his protective desires, but to his surprise, she merely nodded. It seemed she, too, had noticed the moment of sheer, unguarded panic on Varian's face as he had expressed his gratitude for Anduin's life, and she didn't want to add to his burdens. Instead, she silently slipped her arm through Varian's, giving Anduin a knowing look as the three of them turned and followed Broll's path up the hill to Stormwind Keep.

* * *

The next few hours passed by in a blur of noise and movement, as Varian threw the entire Keep into an uproar. The brief flash of fear that he had shown by the lake had quickly turned to anger, and he seemed determined to make his rage felt across the entire city of Stormwind. Guards and SI:7 agents swarmed about the hallways, seeking any sign of another explosive device, while at the same time detaining and searching everyone who had been in the Keep earlier that morning. A specialist bomb squad had also been called in to pick over the remains of Anduin's rooms, in the hopes that they might determine who had been behind the attack.

From what Anduin could ascertain, Auriana seemed have caught the brunt of the first blast, while both Varian and Broll had escaped largely unharmed – with the notable exception of Broll's eyebrows. Three of Varian's guards had been killed, along with Auriana's horse, while at least half a dozen more guards had been seriously wounded. Auriana's personal guards had both suffered shrapnel wounds, though they were both expected to make full recoveries. There had been no civilian deaths, thankfully, but it would take some time to repair the damage to Old Town – and to Anduin's rooms.

In the short term, however, it seemed that Varian was concerned only with the safety of his son and his consort. Upon returning to the Keep, he refused to let either Anduin or Auriana out of his sight, hovering anxiously about them as they recieved healing and waited for the all clear from SI:7. He had them confined to his war room with a veritable army of guards arrayed outside, while he sent out summons to both Genn Greymane and Mathias Shaw.

Both the King of Gilneas and Stormwind's Master of Spies came quickly, neither one the type to refuse such an urgent request. Shaw seemed cool and contained, as always, despite the chaos raging all around him, while Greymane moved with a quick, frantic energy that belied his age. Normally, Anduin might have been glad to see them, but if anything, their presence only served to add to the seething, uneasy tension that permeated the war room. Varian, of course, was a veritable thunderstorm of fury, while Auriana looked like a particularly disgruntled drowned rat. Even Broll seemed unusually on edge, even more so than he had by the lake, and he held himself with the barely contained savagery of a wild animal.

No one dared speak a word, each silently lost in their own thoughts as they waited for the bomb squad to finish their sweep of the castle. It was difficult not to wonder whether there might be a third explosion, and Anduin had to fight to resist the urge to check under the war table, just in case. The war room had been thoroughly searched, of course, but now that his adrenaline had worn off, Anduin was starting to realise that the explosion had bothered him more than he cared to admit. Between his father's protectiveness and the skill of Stormwind's guards, he was used to feeling  _safe_ , even stifled, within the Keep, and the knowledge that he had been targeted within his home was profoundly unsettling.

A sudden knock at the door made the entire room jump, and Varian stepped protectively in front of Anduin as all eyes swung to the door.

"Identify yourself," he called warily.

"Ginnie Swiftfizzle, Your Majesty, SI:7 Bomb Squad," came a high-pitched voice from outside. "At your service."

Varian looked across to Shaw, who nodded, and moved to let the technician inside. As the doors swung open, Anduin saw a dozen of Stormwind's most elite guards standing in a protective phalanx, their shields and weapons free in anticipation of any trouble. There seemed to be no sign of the SI:7 bomb expert, however, until one of the guards stepped to the side and revealed a tiny, bright-eyed gnome. She trotted swiftly into the room, her pink pigtails bobbing vigorously, and she bowed respectfully before Varian.

"I've finished my preliminary analysis, Your Majesty," she said, as Shaw closed the door behind her.

Her hands were full of an unrecognisable chunk of twisted metal, and judging from the black grease smudges on her fingers, it seemed she had been hard at work sorting through what remained of Anduin's rooms.

"And?" Varian growled shortly, his patience already worn threadbare.

"I am pleased to report that we were able recover a number of bomb fragments from both sites," Ginnie said brightly, apparently unaffected by the cloud of anger that hung over the room. "More than I would have hoped. They have significantly aided our ability to reconstruct the attacks."

"I got a brief look at the bomb in Anduin's room before it exploded," Auriana offered. "I thought the device might have been goblin made."

"Correct you are, Archmage. I am certain that both devices were crafted by goblins," Ginnie agreed, thoughtfully rolling a piece of bomb debris between her short fingers. "I'm pretty sure I know which goblins, too. We'll need to investigate further, of course, but…"

"But you have a suspect in mind?" Varian demanded.

"I've seen this craftsmanship before," the gnome said confidently. "It's Bilgewater Cartel."

At her words, a large vein in Varian's temple began to throb violently, and Anduin instinctively stepped backwards. While it was clear that Varian was doing his best to control his rage, it was also clear that he was ready to explode at any minute – and that when he did, such an explosion would be spectacular.

"Are you certain?" he growled, his voice low and throaty with anger.

"Sure am, Your Majesty. I'd stake good money on it," Ginnie nodded, seemingly unaware of the implications of her accusation. "See this gyrochronatom I recovered? Classic Bilgewater: dangerously lazy construction, and as cheap as possible. A gnomish engineer would never be so sloppy with their wiring. They cut corners out on the casing, too, which is just typical… I would have used truesilver, myself, but…"

"I'm sure we can read the full details in your report, Agent Swiftfizzle," Shaw interrupted pointedly, his eyes flicking briefly toward Varian.

Ginnie looked up from her gyrochronatom, and the seriousness of the situation seemed to dawn on her for the first time. She swallowed nervously as she stared up at Varian's furious visage, and she ceased her fidgeting immediately.

"Er… yes, Master Shaw," she said quickly. "I'll… er… go see if there's anything else I can find… excuse me… my lords, my lady."

The gnome technician bade a hasty retreat from the room, and the door had barely closed behind her when Varian shed all pretence of control and let his pent-up rage burst forth.

"So. It has finally come to this!" he roared. "Those cowardly Horde  _swine_  seek to attack my family! In my own  _home_."

"Father…" Anduin said placatingly, though he didn't dare step closer. "I really don't think the Horde would…"

"Quiet!" Varian snapped, the vehemence in his voice surprising even Anduin. "I have listened to you on this matter before, but no longer! How can you deny the evidence before you?"

He snarled with wordless fury, slamming his fist into the war room table so hard that he shattered the wood, and began to pace about the room with such fury that it was a wonder he didn't wear a hole in the floor. Anduin glanced across at Broll and Genn, who both looked immensely troubled by their friend's anger; and then at Auriana, who let out a small, weary sigh. She swallowed nervously, before she stepped forward into Varian's path and caught one of his enormous hands in hers, forcing him to stop and look her in the eye.

"Varian…" she said quietly. "I'm angry, too, but you know as well as I do that goblins will sell to anyone. Those bombs may have been made by the Cartel, but that doesn't mean they were behind the attack. The bomber I chased was  _human_."

"A mercenary! A traitor, willing to sell out his king for some quick coin…" Varian growled, pulling roughly away from her.

"Besides, an attack by the Horde doesn't make any logical sense. Why would Vol'jin come after Anduin or I now?" Auriana pressed, undaunted by his reaction. "He had a perfect opportunity to kill both of us in Draenor. Why would he wait until we were back in Stormwind? Getting a Horde spy into this city would be nearly impossible, much less getting that spy into Anduin's  _rooms_."

She had spoken well, and Anduin could see that his father was struggling to reconcile the logic of Auriana's argument with his instinctual rage.

"There has to be something else going on," she added. "If Vol'jin wants a war, there are easier ways to get one."

"One moment, please, Auriana…. you spoke to Vol'jin in Draenor?" Greymane said slowly, his heavy grey brows drawing together in a wary scowl. "I was not aware of such a meeting."

Auriana glanced toward Anduin guiltily, and he abruptly realised that of all the people in the room, Broll and Greymane were the only ones unaware of the incident with the Horde Warchief in Draenor. The truth had been kept secret, and for good reason, though Anduin suspected it would not remain so for much longer.

"Ah…" Auriana said nervously, glancing over at Varian. "I…"

"You may as well tell him," Varian conceded, rubbing a hand across his eyes. "It's something of a moot point, now."

"Very well. When I was fighting on Draenor, I discovered that some of the remnants of Garrosh Hellscream's True Horde had made a tentative alliance with a group of war profiteers from our side," Auriana began slowly. "In an attempt to provoke a war between the Alliance and the Horde, they kidnapped Vol'jin and dumped him outside Lunarfall. Their intention was to ensure his death while in Alliance hands."

"You had the Warchief of the Horde in your custody, and you kept it secret?" Greymane exclaimed incredulously. "Who else knew about this?"

"I was there when we found him," Anduin supplied.

"I knew, obviously, along with Shaw, Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth, Sky Admiral Rogers, and Grand Marshal Tremblade," Varian added.

"If there were even the slightest hint that the Alliance were in possession of a Horde Warchief, it could've sparked a war," Auriana continued, pointedly avoiding Greymane's eyes. "So… I kept him hidden. I managed to return him to his people without arousing suspicion, and informed Varian immediately upon my return to Stormwind."

"Is this why you were imprisoned in the barracks in Stormwind for a month?" Greymane asked, frowning thoughtfully as he put the pieces together.

"Yes," Auriana said. "If the truth ever came out, Varian had to have been seen to have treated me impartially and punished me according to my actions. As you well know, I violated my orders by failing to inform him of my capture of Vol'jin."

"It was a necessary deception," Varian muttered. "Had I known, I would have been obligated to inform you and the other Alliance leaders… and in doing so, I likely would have started an all-out war between the Alliance and the Horde. Of course, right now, I'm starting to wish I had…"

"I do apologise, Lord Greymane," Auriana added quickly, pointedly ignoring the latter part of Varian's statement. "But I stand by my actions. We would not have triumphed in Draenor had we been forced to fight a war on two fronts."

"I take your point," Greymane conceded slowly, "Though I cannot say I am pleased to have been left in the dark."

He glanced sharply at Varian, and Anduin had no doubt that the two kings would exchange more words on the issue later. Greymane was an eminently practical man, however, and he was not inclined to dwell when there were more pressing matters at hand.

"So... Auriana… you and Vol'jin are friends," he said slowly, putting his hands on his hips.

"I wouldn't go that far. But we do have a certain… rapport," she said, shrugging awkwardly. "He could have very easily made my death look like an accident, and he had ample opportunity to harm Anduin. He did neither. I can't see why he would have suddenly changed his mind a few months later, especially after his men fought side by side with mine in Hellfire Citadel."

"If that's the case… do you think this bombing could be the work of the same group you encountered on Draenor?" Broll wondered, scratching thoughtfully at his beard. "If their plans were frustrated there, it stands to reason that they might try again."

"I'm not sure… I had the opportunity to interrogate one of the assassins, and he said that they had no intention of killing Varian," Auriana mused. "Of course, the word of a traitor is worth little, but he seemed sincere at the time. He believed that Varian would go to war, given the proper motivation, though he showed a great contempt for Anduin… thought him weak."

She glanced over at Anduin and winced apologetically, but he waved her off with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It wasn't the first time he had heard such sentiment, and he doubted that it would be the last. Of course, it still stung, but at that moment he had far more important things to worry about than his own insecurities.

"Why would they try to harm Varian, if they need him alive?" Greymane scoffed. "Hardly a clever plan…"

Auriana inhaled sharply at his words, and sudden burst of inspiration flashed behind her eyes.

"It's a terrible plan… unless Varian wasn't the target…" she whispered, more to herself than anything. "He and I were separated when the bomb went off."

"A group of children ran across the road," Broll recalled. "You really think these assassins would stoop to using children?"

"I didn't think anything of it at the time… but why not? The bomber didn't seem all that concerned with collateral damage," Auriana said, speaking very quickly now. "Give a group of street urchins a few coppers, and they could easily be persuaded to create a distraction. Only…"

"Yes?" Varian asked.

"Why me?" Auriana wondered. "They wanted me dead in Draenor because I had shown a willingness to work with the Horde, but that's hardly relevant now. We're not at war."

"Perhaps they thought you would act as a moderating influence on Varian, much as Anduin has done in the past?" Broll suggested.

"Hardly," Auriana snorted, as if the very idea of her being a calming influence on  _anyone_  was patently ridiculous. "If I believed the Horde to be responsible for harming Anduin, I'd be the first one calling for blood. "

Her jaw tightened angrily, and for a moment she and Varian were the splitting image of one another. They were both incredibly protective people, and Anduin genuinely pitied whoever would be so brave and so foolish as to take the pair of them on.

"I would also assume that their goal not simply to start a war, but to  _win_  one," Greymane added, looking thoughtfully at Auriana. "If that's the case, it doesn't make sense to kill one of the finest weapons in the Alliance arsenal."

"Perhaps it was an attempt at a strategic choice," Shaw said slowly, speaking up for the first time since the argument had started. "I think we can safely assume that His Majesty would go to war over the loss of  _either_  Anduin  _or_  you, my lady. Two bombs means two chances to ensure the desired outcome."

"Speculate all you wish, but you have no proof," Varian countered grimly, folding his arms across his chest. "All we know for certain is that these bombs were made by the Bilgewater Cartel. And that suggests the  _Horde_."

"Perhaps, but I think we should at least consider other options before you have me raze Orgrimmar to the ground," Auriana argued, her blue eyes blazing.

"Could you?" Varian asked darkly.

"What?" she said, recoiling slightly at his abrupt change of tack.

"You heard me," he growled. "Could you destroy Orgrimmar?"

Anduin's eyes widened, surprised that Varian would even ask such a question, and from the sudden ripple of nervous energy that raced around the room, he was not the only one.

"Are you asking as my lover, or as my King?" Auriana asked quietly, her eyes downcast.

"Don't be coy," Varian snapped. "Answer the question."

"In theory, with enough time and the right resources… yes," she admitted, shifting her weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. "But  _could_  and  _would_  are two very different things."

"Varian… you must not by governed by your rage," Broll counselled wisely. "You cannot condemn an entire people for the actions of a few – even if the Horde should turn out to be responsible for these attacks. You are not Garrosh Hellscream."

"Bah! I showed them mercy once, and this is how I am repaid? Would you be preaching such patience if I had just lost my son?" he scowled, thrusting a finger aggressively in Anduin's direction. "Or  _her_?"

Varian quickly resumed his furious pacing, his brief moment of consideration lost beneath another burst of anger. He had worked hard to overcome his prejudice against the Horde in recent years, but under the pressure of nearly losing his son and the woman he loved within minutes of one another, it seemed he had reverted to old habits.

"Father, please," Anduin added gently, at once both urgent and sympathetic. "Auri is right – goblins will sell to anyone, and we have a viable alternative theory."

"You know how I feel about the Horde, Varian… but in this case, I believe they have the right of it," Greymane agreed, nodding towards Anduin and the others. "We cannot start a war on suspicion alone."

Varian looked around, frowning as he realised he was outnumbered, and he threw his hands up in frustration.

"What then would you have me do?" he demanded.

"I… I could talk to the Horde," Auriana suggested quietly. "Vol'jin owes me a blood debt. Trolls take such things very seriously. If I asked, he wouldn't lie."

"An interesting thought, but how do you propose to get a message to the Warchief?" Shaw wondered. "I'm assuming you're not just going to wander up to the front gates of Orgrimmar and knock."

"No," she said, giving him a very small smile. "I'll head to Ratchet. It's easy enough to hire a messenger there."

"If you think you're going to the Barrens, you've got another thing coming," Varian snorted, pausing his pacing to loom menacingly above her.

Auriana was not easily intimidated, however, and she stared up at him with great patience. Anduin had noticed that she and his father had lately developed an uncanny ability to have entire conversations in perfect silence, though neither of them seemed to be aware of this particular behaviour. The tension in the room swelled as they stared one another down, neither one willing to give an inch.

"Varian, I understand your concern, but if I can prevent a war, I feel it's worth the risk. I can route through Dalaran first, make it harder for someone to track me," Auriana said finally. "Would it make you feel better if I were not alone?"

"It would," Varian conceded, cracking his knuckles irritably. "I will go with you."

"Ah… somehow I don't think it's a good idea to have Varian Wrynn show up in the middle of Horde territory," Auriana murmured, glancing around the room for support. "It's a little… provocative."

"Bombing my city is provocative," Varian snapped.

"I could accompany her…" Broll said quickly, interrupting before Varian could go on another rant. "I know the area, I could be useful."

"I'm sorry, Broll, but you're almost as recognisable as Varian," Auriana said quietly, gesturing to his magnificent antlers.

"What about me?" Greymane offered. "I have no recognisable scars or unique features evident in my worgen form. Give me a dark cloak, I could easily pass for a mercenary or a bodyguard."

"That could work…" Auriana said, nodding slowly. "Varian?"

He stared off into space as he considered the suggestion, but eventually nodded his assent. It was blatantly clear that he wasn't happy with  _any_  of this, but he was a good king, and despite what many people thought, Anduin knew his father would never risk the lives of his people frivolously.

"Well, if we're all in agreement, I should go dry off and change," Auriana said quickly, before he could change his mind. "Genn… how soon could you be ready to leave?"

"Oh, no you don't. I might have agreed to this little plan of yours, but you're not going  _anywhere_  until we have finished investigation of the Keep," Varian insisted, cutting Greymane off before he could even open his mouth. "You can leave in the morning. And you, Anduin… you will stay in my quarters tonight."

"Ah… Father… surely you're not suggesting that we all three of us share a bed…" Anduin muttered, glancing sidelong at Auriana and making her blush.

Varian's concern was touching, and there  _was_  a part of Anduin that would have felt safer sleeping with others nearby, but at the same time he didn't want to be coddled. He was a young man now, not a child, and he would not go scampering behind his father's legs whenever he was threatened.

"Of course not," Varian said quickly. "I will make arrangements for you to sleep in my study."

"That's hardly necessary," Anduin argued, his voice quiet but firm. "I haven't slept in your rooms since I was a babe."

"Where else are you going to stay?" Varian countered. "Your room was destroyed."

"We have ambassadorial quarters, I'll stay there," Anduin suggested. "I could stay in the room next to Broll, if that would make you feel more comfortable."

"No. My rooms are the only place I can ensure you are safe," Varian said firmly. "You'll stay with me until further notice."

"Father…"

"I'm not asking," Varian snapped, in his most dangerous tone. "In the meantime, Shaw, I will conduct the interrogation of the servants and guard staff myself, with your assistance. Broll… Genn… if you would be so kind as to return to Old Town and aid the investigation there. Perhaps the presence of a King and an Archdruid will be enough to loosen some tongues."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Shaw agreed, though he shot Anduin a faintly sympathetic look as he moved to open the door.

Varian swept furiously out of the war room, briefly barking orders for the guards to escort both Anduin and Auriana upstairs, before stalking off toward the throne room with Shaw at his side. Greymane squeezed Anduin's shoulder encouragingly as he and Broll, too, departed, before Anduin and Auriana were swept up in a veritable tide of flashing steel. The guardsmen seemed unusually tense, though Anduin supposed it was to be expected. There had already been two serious attacks on the royal family that morning, and there was not a guard alive who would have dared provoke Varian's ire further. As a result, they worked with almost alarming efficiency, and Anduin couldn't have really said whether he had been  _carried_  upstairs, or whether he had walked there on his own two feet.

He spent the rest of the day confined to Varian's quarters, without even Auriana for company. She had insisted on seeing to her two injured bodyguards, and had somehow managed to convince the guards to let her visit the infirmary - albeit accompanied by no less than a dozen elites. Anduin passed the time by leafing idly through some of the books in Varian's study, though he didn't have any particular interest in the dense tactical tomes or violent war novels that his father preferred.

Varian eventually returned to his rooms around suppertime, his scowl making it immediately clear that his interrogation of the Keep staff had been unsuccessful. Auriana had followed soon after, and the three of them had eaten dinner in tense, awkward silence. Normally, Anduin looked forward to such dinners with excitement, but it was not the case tonight. Varian's anger seemed to have only grown over the course of the day, while Auriana simply looked bone weary, and Anduin thought it a mercy when his father finally rose and stomped off to his quarters with her in tow.

Anduin spent the next hour or so reading quietly, until the words on the page began to blur and run together. Although he had escaped serious physical injury, it seemed that being blown up was rather tiring, and he reluctantly prepared to go to bed. A group of thoroughly vetted servants had carefully prepared the large leather chaise in Varian's study for his use, though Anduin was not especially looking forward to sleeping there. It wasn't that he was concerned about his comfort, but rather that he found the whole idea of having to sleep so close to his father both childish and unnecessary. Still, he had long ago learned that arguing with his father immediately after an incident was rather pointless, and he supposed he could tolerate the chaise for one night. Varian would likely be calmer in the morning, and Anduin suspected he might have a much better chance of changing his mind then.

"Anduin?"

A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned to face the study entrance, where Auriana was leaning rather hesitantly against the doorframe. She was now wearing long nightgown made of the palest blue silk, and her wet and dishevelled hair had been neatly brushed and pulled back into a long braid. It was odd, Anduin thought, to see her in anything other than purely practical attire, and he was surprised how small and vulnerable the nightgown made her look.

"Where's Father?" he asked, swiftly stepping toward her. "Are you alright?"

Despite having been blown up twice that day, Auriana looked reasonably well, though Anduin wouldn't rule out the possibility that she had suffered internal damage until he had examined her for himself. He assumed that she had been given more healing, though she appeared somewhat diminished in the dim torchlight of Varian's study. She had acquitted herself with bravery and confidence throughout the war council, but now it seemed that the events of the day had finally caught up with her, much as they had with Anduin himself.

"I'm fine. Your father is on the balcony," Auriana explained, glancing hesitantly back over her shoulder. "I think he needed a moment alone."

She bit her lip nervously, and stared down at the ground.

"I… um… I've never seen him quite like this."

"Actually, he was like this most of the time you were gone on Draenor," Anduin told her, shrugging. "He was even worse when you were missing."

"Sometimes I feel like I bring him nothing but pain," she confessed quietly, twisting her hands anxiously in front of her.

Anduin had never seen Auriana look so shaken, and he suddenly felt incredibly awkward. She typically carried herself with such outward strength that it was easy to miss the raw emotion behind those cool blue eyes, and he fought to resist the urge to offer her a comforting embrace. She wasn't an especially physical person at the best of times, and he wasn't sure how she would react to such a gesture from anyone other than Varian.

"I… um… I know what you mean," he said quietly. "I've felt the same way. People think he doesn't feel things, that he's cold… but nothing could be further from the truth. Father is incredibly loyal to those he loves, and when they're in danger, or in pain… it kills him inside. I also know, however, that you give him far more joy than you do pain."

"Do you think he'd feel that way if I had let you die? I keep wondering…" Auriana said slowly, her blue eyes surprisingly shiny, "If I had been a second later…"

"But you weren't," Anduin said quickly, stepping forward to grasp her shaking hands. "I'm here, and I'm alive. Thanks to you."

"I know…" she said, nodding skittishly. "I just wanted you to know that… I'm really glad you're safe."

Her brow furrowed, and she seemed to be doing her best not to look him in the eye. She kept a tight grip on his hands, however, and a second later Anduin was thoroughly surprised as she lunged forward and threw her arms around his neck. For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure how to react, though he eventually slid his arms around her slender back and clumsily patted the top of her head.

"Er… it's alright…" Anduin mumbled. "I'm fine, I promise."

She nodded against his chest and squeezed him tightly before pulling away, blushing slightly at her own boldness. It was clear that she was just as surprised by the embrace as he was, though he was very pleased that she had finally felt so close to him as to be able to do so.

"I… ah… I ought to be going to bed," she said shyly, fiddling distractedly with a lock of her hair. "Varian will worry if he comes in and I'm not there. Um… goodnight, Anduin."

"Goodnight, Auri," he murmured, smiling to himself slightly as she turned and slipped back out into the hall on silent feet. "Sweet dreams."


	12. Genn

****

No-one in the castle slept well that night, though there were no further incidents, either involving bombs or anything else. Varian had the entire Keep on lockdown, as was only natural given the day's events, and it seemed to Genn as if there were now an entire army swarming the halls. Neither Anduin or Auriana went anywhere unescorted, and each and every room in the Keep had been searched at least three times.

Genn didn't blame Varian for his caution, of course, and he was equally eager to get the bottom of things as soon as possible. To that end, he had agreed to accompany Auriana on her trip to Kalimdor as she searched for answers, though he was somewhat skeptical about approaching the Horde. He trusted Vol'jin's misfit pack about as far as he could throw them, and he was not yet convinced that they were innocent of attempted assassination. Still, he supposed there was little to be lost by asking, and he resolved to protect Auriana as best he could.

The plan was to depart Stormwind around midday, and Genn set about getting himself ready for the journey as he awaited Auriana's arrival at his chambers. With a soft growl, he shifted into his worgen form, throwing his head back as the now-familiar lupine energy coursed through his veins. He never would have  _chosen_  the worgen curse for his people, of course, but he could not deny that it had its advantages. The transformation made him feel stronger and more vital than a man his age had any right to feel, and he immediately felt his senses heighten. He could hear the quiet creak of plate armour as the guard at his door shifted his weight from foot to foot, and he could smell everything from the fresh bread cooking in the kitchens far below, to the faintest hint of smoke on the breeze outside.

It had been some time since he had last transformed, and he flexed his muscles experimentally as he readjusted to his increased height and weight. He stretched out, digging his claws deep into the soft rug beneath his feet, before padding slowly over to his bed. Today, he and Auriana would be going undercover, and his usual fine robes would not do. Instead, he had laid set of old and dusty leathers sized appropriately for his wolfish form, which he quickly began to pull on over his coarse, silvery fur.

He had just started buttoning himself into his coat when there came a knock at his chamber door, and Auriana poked her head tentatively through the gap between the door and the frame.

"Hello?"

"Come in, my dear," he welcomed her warmly, beckoning her inside. "Good morning – or is it now afternoon?"

"Still morning, I think, my lord," she said, slipping quietly into the room.

Auriana, too, had apparently come prepared, and in her own set of mercenary garb, she strongly reminded Genn of one of Mathias Shaw's rogues. She was dressed all in dusty black, with only the moon-white skin face left bare. Her long hair was pulled back beneath an oversized hood, and the scarring on her arms was disguised beneath a pair of thick gloves. She also carried a vicious looking dagger openly on her hip, and if Genn had not known who she truly was, he never would have suspected her of being a powerful mage.

"I take it you're ready to go," he remarked approvingly, "Though I had thought Varian might come to say goodbye."

"He's just speaking to Anduin, he'll be along in a moment," Auriana replied, glancing briefly back over her shoulder to the door. "How about you?"

"Just need to finish with this coat, and put on my cloak," Genn rumbled, gesturing to the dusky, hooded mantle still laid across his bed.

"I can help with that," Auriana suggested shyly, and she moved off to collect the cloak.

She waited patiently for Genn to finish with his buttons, before throwing the cloak up and over his broad shoulders. In his worgen form, Genn towered over her more than he already did, and she had to stand on the very tips of her toes as she adjusted the hood around his ears and tied it off across his chest.

"There," Auriana said, smiling as she took a step back. "I doubt even Mia would pick you now."

Genn turned to look at himself in the mirror, and found that he had to agree. The heavy cowl Auriana had placed over his head hid more or less everything but his eyes, and he looked far dirtier and more menacing than he had ever seen himself. He had always taken great care to appear polished and kingly, a habit he had inherited from his father, and he found it rather novel to take on the role of a dark, rugged mercenary.

"You're right. I am quite unrecognisable," Genn nodded, as he secured a plain but serviceable Gilnean rapier to his hip. "Though... I can't help but think that you could have disguised Varian just as well as you have disguised me."

Auriana paused as she fiddled with her own cloak, her fingers pausing briefly on the silver clasp as he spoke.

"I suppose I could have…" she murmured.

"Pop a plate helmet on his head, hide his eyes, no one would know who he was…" Genn added.

"That's true," she said, turning slowly to face him.

She was the very picture of innocence, her blue eyes wide and doe-like, but Genn was not one to be easily fooled by a pretty face.

"And yet… here we are," he said blithely, doing his best to subtly prod the truth from her. "Genn and Auriana, off a grand adventure to Kalimdor…"

Auriana was a smart woman, and she knew very well when she'd been made. She shrugged lightly in surrender, the corner of her mouth twitching, and turned away to stare out through one of the many windows that lined Genn's chamber.

"You saw how he was yesterday," she sighed, "And he barely slept last night. He was tossing and turning so much he nearly knocked me out of bed. He isn't thinking straight."

"But if you told him that outright…"

" _We_ would've ended up in an argument,  _he_  would've insisted on coming to protect me, and  _I'd_  have to worry about him going on a rampage through Ratchet," Auriana finished.

"So… you made him believe it was an issue of his appearance, not his temper," Genn observed. "Rather manipulative of you."

"About as manipulative as  _you_  playing along," Auriana countered, folding her arms across her chest and lifting her chin defiantly as she turned back to face him. "You're almost as conspicuous as Varian, though perhaps a good deal less than Broll. I wasn't lying when I said those antlers stand out."

Her eyes flashed knowingly, and Genn couldn't help but to bark out a short laugh. In truth, he  _had_  guessed her hidden motives during the war council, though he had been more than willing to offer his assistance. Although they had got off to a rocky start, Genn now considered Varian his closest friend and ally, and he was proud to protect the younger King's family as if they were his own.

"Ah, but you see…" he said warmly, patting Auriana's shoulder, "When I do it, it's  _guidance_ , not manipulation."

Auriana chuckled drily and shook her head, but it seemed she was not really much one for levity today.

"The fact remains…" she said seriously, "I need someone who can keep their head."

"Are you quite sure that's me?" Genn asked.

"I know you care for Anduin, but he isn't your son. It isn't the same thing," she explained. "I know you've got more reason than most to hate the Horde… but you're not a warmonger."

She sighed.

"Neither is Varian, no matter what some people like to think," she added bitterly. "But… he only yesterday witnessed two attacks on his son and his… whatever  _I_  am. It makes it personal… and he's not the kind of man who can easily forgive such a slight."

"I understand, my dear. I will help you get to the bottom of this, I promise," Genn swore seriously. "And although I know you hate to hear it… I will keep you safe."

"Thank you…" she murmured, and she gave him a weary but genuine smile.

Genn was just about to suggest that they get on the road, when his door swung open for a second time, and Varian stomped furiously into the room. Genn had expected him to look a bit dishevelled, given what Auriana had said about his poor sleep the night before, but even he was surprised by how undone Varian looked. There were large black circles beneath his eyes, and he moved with the wary tension of a wounded animal. His eyes were dark with the promise of great violence, and from the way he glared at Auriana, it was clear that he was not pleased at the thought of her leaving the safety of the Keep. He had agreed to the mission, of course, but he was certainly making it clear that his permission had been given under duress.

"You two are ready, then?" he said gruffly, by way of greeting.

"We are indeed. And a good morning to you, too," Genn said patiently.

Varian grunted dismissively, and stalked over to where Auriana stood leaning up against the window. He pulled her rather roughly against him, grasping the back of her neck possessively as he stared her down.

"You be careful," he ordered her, a heavy frown creasing his forehead.

"I'm always careful," Auriana assured him lightly, though she didn't smile.

"That's what concerns me," Varian growled.

"She'll be fine, Varian," Genn said calmly, stepping forward to place a firm hand on the younger king's shoulder. "She won't get a scratch, I promise."

"She'd better not," Varian huffed irritably, though he seemed somewhat mollified to know that Auriana would have her very own worgen bodyguard.

He glanced briefly in Genn's direction, before he lowered his head and pulled Auriana into a deep, passionate kiss. Genn raised an eyebrow, surprised by Varian's unusually public display of affection, and had to look away to hide his amusement as the kiss went on for far longer than seemed strictly necessary. Eventually, he let out a surreptitious cough to remind Varian that he was still in the room, and the King of Stormwind pulled away from his consort with a start. He did not seem remotely embarrassed, however, though Auriana's cheeks burned as brilliant red as a Gilnean sunset.

"Come back soon," Varian told her quietly, as he finally released the flustered mage from his iron grip. "And good luck."

* * *

As Auriana had suggested during the war council the previous day, their journey would first take them to Dalaran before they struck out for Kalimdor. Prior to departing Stormwind, however, they stopped by the city's roost to collect two large black gryphons, who had been stripped of their usual Alliance livery and armour. Auriana was unable to teleport them to Ratchet directly, and so they would have to fly at least part of the way. Properly attired gryphons would not do for such a secretive mission, however, and instead Genn and Auriana would ride on mounts appropriately matched to their carefully chosen appearances.

Auriana opened a portal to Dalaran the moment she collected her gryphon's reins, and lead the proud beast through on foot. Genn was amazed by the casualness with which she summoned such great power, though he supposed she could probably open a portal to Dalaran in her sleep by now. He followed closely on her heels, leading his own mount with a firm hand, and they emerged on the large outdoor platform known as Krasus' Landing. A number of Kirin Tor guardians looked curiously in their direction as they appeared, but Auriana paid them no mind as she set about opening a second portal. She seemed tense and agitated, far more so than she had in Stormwind, but she disappeared through the portal to Kalimdor before Genn could say a word.

Genn sighed and patted his gryphon reassuringly as he stepped through after her, looking around curiously as he re-emerged on the other side. Above him loomed the familiar white stone of an Alliance watchtower, though it was the only point of brightness against an otherwise grey landscape and a roiling black sky.

"Where are we?" he asked curiously.

"Sentry Point. Just north of Theramore," Auriana explained, her voice rising strangely. "Portal magic is very much based on familiarity, and… I know this area well."

She turned to the south, and slowly walked up a nearby hill so that she might better look out over her former home. Genn followed closely, his chest tightening as he beheld the ruined city before him. He had not seen Theramore since its destruction at the hands of Garrosh Hellscream, and he was surprised to see how  _recent_  the damage looked. Dark bands of lingering purple magic were visible even now, years after the bomb had fallen, and there were still fires burning amidst the debris of the once proud towers that had ringed the city.

"Or what's left of it," Auriana sighed darkly.

"I'm sorry, this must be difficult for you," Genn murmured sympathetically. "Your family were in Theramore when the bomb hit, were they not?"

"Varian told you?"

"He did," Genn said solemnly, knowing full well what it meant to lose one's home. "For what it's worth… I'm sorry."

Auriana seemed not to have heard him, however, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the ruins of Theramore. She seemed all of a sudden very far away, as if she were no longer quite a part of the real world, and her expression was inscrutable.

"There's so much  _magic_  out there. It's raw, and… angry… it sets my teeth on edge," she murmured finally, shivering and rubbing her arms. "We should get out of here."

She turned and walked back down the hill, her forehead creased in a heavy frown, and she began to fuss quietly with her gryphon.

"So... what's the plan?" Genn asked, hoping to help keep her focused on the task at hand. "How do you intend to contact Vol'jin?"

"Well… I don't, actually," she said simply. "He's the Warchief of the Horde, he's not going to talk to just any messenger that walks in the door. But I have other contacts. A friend from Draenor. He'll be easier to get to."

"I see," said Genn thoughtfully. "And you think we'll find a messenger in Ratchet?"

"There's a tavern there called the Broken Keel," Auriana said, nodding confidently. "It's patronised by all sorts of mercenaries and outlaws… we should be able to find someone suitable without much trouble."

She swung into the saddle without any further preamble, and quickly urged her gryphon into the sky. It was clear that she was upset, but although they had grown closer since her return from Draenor, Genn did not feel it was his place to press. Instead, he held his own gryphon a few lengths behind to give her space, and they flew northward in solemn silence.

Aside from Auriana's ill mood, however, it was a relatively pleasant flight. Genn had not spent time in eastern Kalimdor, and he found the terrain rather fascinating. The endless grey-green expanse of Dustwallow Marsh eventually gave way to the dusty red hillocks of the Barrens, and he was amazed to see the extent of the damage that still scarred the land. Although it had been years since Deathwing had torn Azeroth asunder in the Cataclysm, the evidence of the black dragon's rage was visible to this day. The coast was also littered with the wreckage of dozens of ships, though whether they had been destroyed by Deathwing, or in one of the many wars between the Alliance and the Horde, Genn couldn't tell.

It was late afternoon by the time he and Auriana arrived in Ratchet, landing their gryphons on a tall ridge on the southern end of town. Auriana dismounted hurriedly, securing her gryphon in the shade of a flat canopied tree with a squat trunk. She fumbled around distractedly, her fingers slipping as she made to tie off the gryphon's reins with running knot. Genn watched her carefully as he saw to his own mount, but after the third time she tried and failed to make the knot, he decided to intervene.

"Are you alright?" he asked seriously, reaching out to still her small hands with his own larger one.

In a lot of ways, Auriana reminded him of his own daughter, Tess - both were clever, strong-willed, and resolute – and he found it difficult to resist the urge to watch over her as a father might.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though the haunted look in her eyes did little to convince Genn she was telling the truth.

"Auriana…"

"I said goodbye to Theramore a long time ago, Genn," she murmured, finishing off the knot with a small frown. "Come on. We've got work to do."

She turned and strode off determinedly down the hill towards Ratchet, and there was little Genn could do but follow. Although the goblin port was ostensibly a neutral, and open to travellers of all allegiances, it was far more commonly frequented by members of the Horde, and both Genn and Auriana attracted considerable attention as they walked. Curious, cautious glances followed the two of them as they made their way into the heart of Ratchet, though he thought they were more so directed at  _her_  than him. Where Genn looked like any other anonymous mercenary wandering around town, Auriana's dainty figure made her look like a little lost lamb who had wandered into a den of wolves.

 _If only they knew…_  he thought wryly.

Despite her earlier melancholy, Auriana walked with a calm, predatory confidence; ignoring the many stares that came her way as she led Genn towards a ramshackle tavern at the edge of town. Like most goblin buildings, the Broken Keel seemed as if it had been cobbled together without any thought for elegance of form, and Genn sniffed distastefully as he stepped over the threshold behind Auriana. Inside, the tavern was little better, and as dim and dingy a place as he had ever been. It  _certainly_  wasn't the sort of establishment he would have frequented of his own accord, though he supposed it would serve its purpose well enough.

All manner of rough-and-ready persons leered out of the darkness as Genn and Auriana approached the bar; from a slender female goblin affectionately stroking a rifle as long as she was tall, to a battle-worn tauren with a small machete casually embedded deep within one of his horns. A goblin innkeeper lorded over the bar like a king in his throne room, his resplendent blue and gold garb a stark contrast to his otherwise drab establishment.

"Whatcha want?" he asked skeptically, his eyes narrowing as Auriana walked over and leaned her elbows on the bar.

"I'll have rum, and my friend here will have a glass of port," she said smoothly, glancing briefly at Genn. "And if you'd be so kind, I'd also like a recommendation. I need to get a message to Orgrimmar."

"An odd request, for a human. Or are you a dwarf?" the goblin sneered, leading in so close that his long nose was almost touching Auriana's.

"It doesn't matter what I am," she growled irritably, looking faintly offended that she had been mistaken for a dwarf. "What matters is that I'm willing to pay handsomely for your assistance."

She reached into the inner pocket of her dark robe and pulled out a heavy pouch of gold, likely more money than the goblin saw in an entire day's work, and placed it firmly on the counter between them. Unsurprisingly, the goblin's small eyes lit up greedily, and his suspicious demeanour immediately changed to one of eager obsequiousness.

"Hello, friends!" he exclaimed warmly, as if they had only now just met. "Welcome, welcome… come, best seat in the house over here. Let's get ya those drinks, too… some of my finest, not the swill I serve to these orcs. What did ya say your name was?"

"I didn't. I'm Eira," Auriana lied smoothly. "And this is my friend… er… Jim."

"Take a seat," the goblin urged them. "Anywhere you like! I'll be right over with them drinks… and I'll find ya a good messenger, too."

He turned away to tend to their order, while Genn and Auriana moved to find a table. The tavern was not especially busy this time of day, and fortunately they were able to find a relatively private space in a back corner.

"Jim?" Genn asked seriously, the moment Auriana had taken her seat. "Do I look like a ' _Jim_ ' to you?"

"Sorry," she said, shrugging. "It was the best I could do on the spot."

"I should have a proper Gilnean name! Like Silas, or Ambrose," he protested. "Something that commands respect."

"Sorry, Silas," she said drily, with a very slight roll of her eyes. "Next time we go undercover, I'll make sure we sit down together and develop a rich backstory for your character."

Auriana ostensibly relaxed back into her chair as the goblin barkeep served their drinks, though she kept her eyes firmly trained on the entrance to the tavern. She reminded Genn strongly of a caged animal, tense and ready for a fight at any moment. Of course, her unease was understandable, given everything that had happened to her over the last few weeks, though Genn hoped it would not interfere with their work.

"You know, my mother always said that sarcasm was unbecoming of a lady…" he teased lightly, trying to lighten her mood.

He took a long sip of his drink, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the port wine was of far better quality than he had expected, given their surroundings. Of course, it was rather more difficult to drink from a glass in his worgen form than it would have been as a human, but he managed well enough.

"Oh, really…" Auriana mused, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Well… I married Mia, so I obviously didn't listen," he snorted wryly.

She smiled slightly, as he had hoped, but her expression remained wary as she raised her glass to her lips and downed the shot in a single, unladylike swig.

"You're nervous," Genn observed.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "You worry too much."

"No point lying to a worgen, dear girl," he reminded her, tapping the side of his nose. "I can smell it on you."

Auriana glanced upward at the filthy ceiling, and rolled the crude shot glass between her fingers as she gathered her thoughts.

"Alright…" she admitted, not meeting his eyes. "I am."

"You don't think your friend will come?"

"No, he will. I just…" she trailed off with a sigh, and frowned. "What if Varian's right, and it  _was_  the Horde who tried to kill me? I don't want to fight another war, Genn, I'm tired. Killing demons is one thing, but… the Horde? They're not evil, not the same way the Legion are evil."

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully, and placed her shot glass rim down on the table.

"A few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to turn my wrath against them," she confessed quietly, "But now… I'm not the same person I was after Theramore fell. I'm not even the same person I was before Hellfire Citadel."

"War has a funny way of changing us," Genn agreed. "I am not the man I was before I lost Gilneas."

"What would you do?" Auriana wondered. "Say… right now… I offered you the means to wipe the Horde from the face of Azeroth… every last man, woman, and child… would you do it?"

"I do not know. I would like to think I'm a better man than that… but who knows what any of us would be capable of, given the right circumstances…" Genn said slowly. "I will admit, however… if I ever get my hands on  _Sylvanas_ … I will certainly show her no mercy."

His chest tightened painfully as he recalled the loss of his only son, and he glowered darkly into his glass.

"Genn…" Auriana said softly, her beautiful blue eyes bright with emotion. "If you ever get your hands on Sylvanas… I'll help."

A long moment of silence passed between them, but before either Genn or Auriana could say anything further, they were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of an enormous orc mercenary.

"Og zag ka'zug!" the orc grumbled, slamming both fists down on the table.

Genn growled deep in his throat, and his hand reflexively twitched towards the dagger at his hip. He didn't speak orcish, but there was no mistaking the aggression in the brute's posture, nor the way looked at Auriana like she was a particularly tasty hunk of meat. He sat up straighter, ready to teach the orc a lesson, only for Auriana to still him with a gentle hand on his arm.

"Ag az," she retorted smoothly, looking the orc straight in the eye. "Raga zul og, al ma'gosh."

Genn raised an eyebrow, surprised to learn that Auriana was fluent in the orc's guttural language. He was also surprised by how calm she appeared, having expected her rage to rise the surface the moment the orc had made his challenge.

"Kaz amrok!" the orc snapped, clearly shocked to have been addressed in his own language. "Magga dak al durga daz grog borug car'guk!"

His incessant bellowing was now attracting attention from other patrons in the bar, but Auriana seemed unconcerned. She leaned forward casually, and Genn was surprised to see a small blade appear in her hand. A very small smile flickered across her face as she pressed it calmly against the upper juncture of the orc's thigh, and titled her head thoughtfully to the side.

"Rog'ash az tarkarek, gromok ag urgun agg'adar," she murmured softly, though her dark blue eyes glinted threateningly. "Ag zug kash rogga."

The orc hissed between his tusks, staring down at her with undisguised contempt, but Auriana didn't flinch. If anything, she looked almost bored by the orc's antics, and after much agitated gnashing of teeth, the orc finally turned away and slunk off back to his own corner of the tavern.

"Well, I take it that wasn't the messenger... and I didn't know you spoke orcish," Genn remarked, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the troublesome orc.

"Well enough," Auriana said nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just scared off a creature four times her size.

"What did he say?"

"Oh, you know. Something about a human whore and her pet dog…" she said dismissively. "He thought he could scare us out of some coin."

"I am  _not_  a pet dog" Genn spluttered angrily.

"And I'm a whore?" Auriana scoffed. "I'd hardly consider  _that_  particular orc a reliable source of information. Honestly, I'm surprised he even knew I was female. He didn't seem overly bright."

"Are any of them?" Genn wondered bitterly. "What did you tell him, anyway?"

"Ah… well… I told him that if he took another step closer, I would… um… send his manhood back to his mother in a pretty box," Auriana murmured.

" _What_?" Genn exclaimed, both surprised and somewhat impressed by her crudeness.

"It sounds better in orcish," she said sheepishly, the tips of her ears going red. "I mean, orcs don't actually have a  _word_  for pretty, but I specified that the box would be wrapped with a very nice bow…"

She lifted her shoulders ever so slightly, and began to fiddle with her empty shot glass once more.

"What can I say? Orcs respond to strength," she added. "Especially young, dumb ones."

"No magic?" Genn asked, taking another slow sip of his port.

"I don't want to give the game away if I don't have to," she explained. "I'm not as well-known as a king, but I'm not a…"

She trailed off as a second shadow loomed over their table, and her hand instinctively flew to her small dagger as she looked up. Genn followed her line of sight, but instead of another orc, he was surprised to see a rangy female tauren standing before them. As was befitting of a messenger, she was dressed in light, practical clothing, and the lean muscles beneath her light caramel coat spoke to both her speed and endurance.

"Greetings, travellers. I am Tarsha Windbinder," the tauren said, her voice rumbling deep within her wide bovine chest. "Innkeeper Wiley said you were seeking a messenger."

"Yes. I to get a message Orgrimmar," Auriana replied quickly, releasing her grip on her dagger and reaching into her cloak to withdraw another sizeable purse. "That's half of what I'm willing to pay. You get the rest upon your return."

The tauren's deep brown eyes widened at the promise of so much coin, though Genn could she was fighting not to appear overeager.

"Whom do you seek?" she asked slowly.

"A Darkspear troll by the name of Zala'din," Auriana said quietly, making sure she could not be overheard. "He would be a commander, or…"

"I know of whom you speak," Tarsha confirmed, her curiosity evidently aroused by the request. "He is a captain in the Warchief's personal guard. What message would you have me convey to him?"

"Tell him that an old friend from Draenor is in Ratchet, and would like to buy him a drink," Auriana said vaguely. "But be very specific in your description of  _who_  sent the message. Tell him you were commissioned by a very small human woman."

"A simple message," Tarsha observed. "Are you sure…?"

"I'm confident he'll understand," Auriana said quickly. "Do we have a deal?"

The tauren woman considered her request thoughtfully, but it seemed clear to Genn that she would not turn down such easy, well paid work.

"We do," Tarsha said finally, holding out her forearm for Auriana to clasp. "I shall depart immediately, and I will return as swiftly as I am able, Earthmother willing."

Satisfied, Auriana offered her own hand in return, and the two women shook firmly to seal the deal. Tarsha then quickly tucked her purse into her belt, nodding briefly to Genn before she turned neatly on her hooves and loped swiftly out of the tavern.

"You think she's going to come back?" Genn wondered skeptically.

"Tauren are an honourable folk," Auriana said confidently. "And mercenaries live off their reputations. If she cut and run, she'd never get work in Ratchet again."

"True… and she wants more money," he added wryly.

"Well, there is that," Auriana agreed grimly. "One should never underestimate the power of gold…"

"Still… no matter how fast she is, it's going to take some time for her to travel to Orgrimmar and back," Genn mused thoughtfully, finishing the last sip of his wine. "What do you intend to do until then?"

"What else  _is_  there to do in a place like this?" Auriana said slowly, waving down the barkeep so that she might order a second round. "We drink."

* * *

As Genn had expected, it was several long hours before the tauren messenger returned from her mission to Orgrimmar. Night had fallen over the city well before she made a second appearance, and in that time, he and Auriana had gone through a considerable amount of wine. Somewhat unfortunately, it was difficult for him to get drunk in his worgen form, though he  _was_  surprised to see how well Auriana held her liquor. For a very dainty woman, she could certainly keep up with the best of them, and she didn't appear to be even mildly flushed.

Unlike earlier, Tarsha did not approach their table directly upon return, instead lingering in the doorway and jerking her massive head to the side to indicate that they should join her outside. Auriana tossed a few coins on the counter for the goblin barkeep as they left, and together she and Genn emerged from the Broken Keel to find the tauren woman leaning casually up against the side of the tavern wall.

"He's over there," the messenger said, nodding to where a hooded figure lurked beneath the shade of a tall palm on the other side of town. "He decided he wanted to speak to you in person."

The mysterious arrival was certainly tall enough to be a troll, though it was difficult to correctly ascertain his species in the darkness. He also appeared to be partially hidden by a massive winged windrider, evidently having flown to Ratchet immediately upon Auriana's request.

"Thank you, Tarsha," Auriana said sincerely, tossing her the second half of the promised price. "You've performed admirably. May the Earthmother watch over you."

The tauren woman accepted the money with a grateful nod, but Auriana was no longer paying her any attention. She was focused entirely on her troll friend, who raised a solemn hand in greeting. For a moment, Genn wondered if she would go to speak to him directly, but instead she subtly pointed to the south, and linked her arm through Genn's to lead him back up the hill to where they had originally landed.

Evidently, she felt the nature of their conversation would likely be too sensitive for the crowded tavern; a sentiment with which Genn wholeheartedly agreed. It was bad enough that he had to trust the discretion of  _one_  member of the Horde, let alone a whole bar, and he was glad that Auriana seemed to have her head on straight. Fortunately, her friend also seemed to be the intelligent sort, and he did not immediately turn to follow, rather giving Genn and Auriana time to leave Ratchet on their own.

Genn knew their presence in the goblin port had already attracted more attention than with which he was comfortable, and it simply wouldn't do to be seen conversing with the troll in the middle of town. Instead, he and Auriana left Ratchet ahead of the troll by several minutes, and they waited patiently for the troll to join them amongst the relative privacy of the stand of trees where they had tethered their mounts.

"Do you really trust him?" Genn asked her seriously, folding his arms across his chest.

She looked almost ghostly in the moonlight, though there was no mistaking the sincerity and determination in her expression as she stared out over the town below.

"Yes," she murmured. "With my life."

"Then I suppose I should make a gesture of good faith," he growled, pulling back his cowl to reveal his face to the cool night air. "We are here in the spirit of cooperation, after all."

A brief flicker of surprise crossed Auriana's face, but she made no comment as her troll ally finally crested the hill and made his way slowly towards their position. Much like Genn and Auriana, the troll had taken some care to disguise his appearance, though there was no real hiding his shock of red hair, nor his shattered left tusk. He eyed Genn warily as he approached, carefully studying him from top to toe for any sign of a threat, though his reaction to Auriana was considerably warmer.

"Little lion! It really  _is_  you," he exclaimed, throwing back the hood of his own cloak. "Couldn't believe it when dat tauren girl showed up wit ya message."

He dropped his windrider's reins, before he took three loping steps forward and pulled Auriana into a rough embrace, lifting the featherlight mage easily off the ground. Genn's hand instinctively went to his sword, ready to leap to her defense, but the troll simply spun her around in a circle and placed her gently back on the ground. His expression was open and amicable, and there was no disguising the affection in his eyes as he stared down at Auriana. Not that Genn considered himself an expert in troll body language, of course, but seemed to him that Zala'din genuinely cared for his human counterpart, and that any concern that Genn had for her safety was unfounded where the troll was concerned.

"Ya men gotcha out of Hellfire Citadel right fast after da battle," the troll rumbled, his enormous hands resting lightly on her shoulders. "I didn't get ta say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Auriana said, smiling wistfully. "I'm really glad you survived."

Concerningly, she seemed a little surprised that the troll had actually heeded her summons, and she had apparently forgotten that Genn was still there. He coughed surreptitiously to remind her of his presence, and she blushed as she caught his eye.

"Oh! Zala'din… Genn Greymane. Genn, Zala'din," she said quickly, gesturing to each of them in turn. "Zala'din was my opposite number in Draenor, he commanded the Horde garrison at Frostwall, and Genn is... well…"

"Da King of Gilneas," the big troll finished. "It be an honour, mon."

"Well met, Commander," Genn said warily.

He wasn't exactly happy to be out in the middle of the Barrens trying to get information out of a troll, but he supposed there was no point being overly impolite. Genn also knew that Auriana was a cynical person by nature, and if the troll had done enough to earn her trust, it was enough for him – at least for now.

"Captain of da Warchief's personal guard, now," Zala'din said proudly. "Course, as I hear it, I'm not da only one who got a  _promotion_ … little queen."

"Archmage is fine, Zal," Auriana growled warningly. "I'm not the queen of anything."

"That won't last long, if Varian Wrynn has anything to say about it," Genn muttered drily, earning himself a withering glare.

"Am I going to regret introducing the two of you?" Auriana groaned. "I swear, sometimes it feels like the only thing the Alliance and the Horde have in common is a desire to tease me…"

"Why ya here, den?" Zala'din asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Long way ta come just ta chat – wit a king in tow, no less."

He titled his head suspiciously, and Auriana sighed.

"There were two bombings in Stormwind yesterday," she said quietly. "I was one of the targets… Anduin Wrynn was the other."

Zala'din growled low in his throat, and a ripple of anger flickered across his face.

"Ya need me ta kill someting for ya little lion?" he said darkly.

"When have I ever needed someone to do my killing for me? I can protect myself," Auriana said sharply, shaking her head. "That's not the issue. We have been unable to identify the perpetrators, but we believe someone was trying to start a war with the Alliance."

She looked over at Genn for support, her beautiful blue eyes troubled.

"Fragments of both bombs suggested they were created by the Bilgewater Cartel," he supplied.

He tried to keep his tone neutral, but it was clear that Zala'din heard the subtle accusation beneath his words, and the troll's expression darkened considerably.

"Zal… did Vol'jin put a kill order out on me?" Auriana asked bluntly. "Or Anduin?"

"No," Zala'din said quickly, almost before she had finished speaking.

"How can you be sure?" Genn growled suspiciously.

"Ain't no-one Vol'jin trusts more den me," Zala'din said proudly, pulling up to his full height. "I be by his side day and night. I swear ta ya by all da  _loa_ , it wasn't him."

He snorted derisively and gnashed his tusks, as if the very  _idea_  of Vol'jin's duplicity was offensive to him.

"If Vol'jin wanted a war with Wrynn, he wouldn't resort ta assassinatin' women and children," he added pointedly. "He'd march up ta da gates of Stormwind, like a warrior."

"Is it possible that someone else within the Horde would have done so? Sylvanas, perhaps… or Gallywix…" Auriana suggested.

"Gallywix has no interest in a war with da Alliance," Zala'din said dismissively. "He joined da Horde out of self-preservation, he don't wanna get himself killed for no reason. And a war means less time lounging around in da pleasure palace with dem goblin pretties he likes."

He seemed to find the goblin trade prince repulsive, and Genn was starkly reminded that the Horde did not have the same internal cohesion as the Alliance. The Horde had largely banded together out of necessity, not ideology, and clearly did not always share the same goals.

"And as for Sylvanas… if she comes after ya, ya can bet she gonna do it wit' poison," Zala'din continued.

"But it  _was_  a Bilgewater bomb," Genn insisted.

"I don't doubt ya, mon. But Gallywix and his people will see ta anyone – Horde, Alliance, whoever…" Zala'din explained, shrugging. "Dey would sell ta Sargeras himself if they thought dey could negotiate some kinda trade without getting' incinerated."

"I suspected as much," Auriana sighed in frustration, shrugging her delicate shoulders. "So… we're looking for a bomber who could be literally anyone in the world.  _Great_."

Zala'din nodded grimly, before he looked back over his shoulder toward Orgrimmar.

"I should be gettin' back… last ting we need is someone seein' us all together and gettin' ideas," he said. "But I promise, little lion… I will look into dis matter for ya. I will speak ta Vol'jin."

"Can he be trusted?" Genn asked skeptically.

It was one thing for Auriana to contact a proven friend, but another thing entirely to involve the Horde Warchief in such a sensitive matter. No matter what personal debts he may have owed Auriana, Vol'jin was still an enemy chieftain, an Genn was reluctant to involve the Horde any further than they already had.

"Dere ain't no one alive who has more honour dan Vol'jin," Zala'din growled seriously. "Dat ya can count on. Be safe, little lion, and see dat ya wolf-man there takes good care of ya."

He gave Auriana a swift, searching look, before he turned back to his waiting windrider and swung into the saddle. The leonine creature snarled and stretched beneath troll's weight, and it growled softly as it spread its wings and leapt into the sky. Zala'din had the beast ascend rapidly, heading straight up before he turned and glided away towards the north.

Both Genn and Auriana watched until the windrider was swallowed by the passing of a dark, heavy cloud, standing in tense silent for several long minutes before Auriana finally turned around and spoke.

"Do you believe him?"

"I do," Genn admitted. "I couldn't smell a lie on him."

"So, either the Horde aren't responsible… or it's someone acting outside Vol'jin's authority," she surmised bitterly. " _Dammit_!"

Auriana kicked the ground in frustration, sending a spray of red dust dancing into the night air. Barely controlled stress was written into every line of her face, and Genn became instantly concerned. He had never seen her in a rage, though he of course knew of her unusual skillset by reputation. Varian had assured him that Auriana had well developed methods for controlling her berserker tendencies, of course, though Genn couldn't help but to feel a little concerned.

"Auriana?" he asked worriedly, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder in much the same way he had done to Varian earlier that day.

"I'm fine," she said dismissively. "I just wanted answers."

"Well… it seems increasingly likely this is not the work of the Horde, but rather the shadow group you encountered on Draenor," Genn said slowly. "Do you really think they want a war? I would assume they believe they can win."

Auriana considered the question carefully, staring down at her feet as she slowly dragged the toe of her boot through the dirt.

"It's a fair assessment," she said finally. "Garrosh Hellscream bombed Theramore, yes, but there were plenty of his own people who lost their lives during his reign. Then we were all forced to go to war in Draenor, where the Horde lost even more of their best and brightest. Blood elves don't have high birth rates, the Darkspear and the goblins each represent only one tribe or cartel… and the Forsaken surely have negative population growth. The Horde simply don't have the numbers to outlast us in a ground war."

"Sylvanas can raise more of her wretched kind," Genn snarled darkly, his hands balling involuntarily as he imagined closing them around the Banshee Queen's neck.

"But not at the rate at which we could kill them," Auriana countered coolly. "Stormwind alone has more people than most of the smaller Horde factions combined. And I don't doubt that if Varian asked Jaina Proudmoore for the Kirin Tor, she would give them to him. A war would be long and costly, yes, but… it's difficult to imagine a scenario in which the Alliance would lose. Excepting the use of another mana bomb, I suppose."

"Well reasoned," Genn conceded eventually, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I will admit, it makes me wonder why Varian hesitated at Orgrimmar."

"I said we'd win, I didn't say it would be easy," Auriana pointed out. "An all-out war across two continents would be devastating… and for what? There's nothing really to be gained by destroying the Horde... certainly not as they exist under Vol'jin. I don't think Varian felt it was worth the loss of even more Alliance lives."

"I could see my city again," Genn said wistfully.

Auriana frowned sympathetically, and she clasped his forearms firmly.

"Would you really want to pay for it in the blood of good soldiers?" she murmured. "Would it be worth tearing the Alliance apart?"

"No," Genn admitted, shaking his head bitterly. "You're quite right, of course, but still… a man can dream."

He sighed, and looked up at the starry sky above. Despite the fact that the Barrens were Horde territory, they were bleakly beautiful at night, and even he could appreciate that they had their own kind of appeal.

"We should return to Stormwind," he said quietly, moving to gather the reins of his gryphon.

"I hate going back emptyhanded," Auriana frowned, though she, too, made to ready her mount. "Varian's going to be furious."

"We're not emptyhanded," Genn told her encouragingly. "We know more than we did before. You have the evidence you came for."

"There's still someone trying to kill me," she huffed irritably. "And  _worse_ … someone trying to kill Anduin."

"Your life isn't meaningless, Auriana," he said firmly.

"I know," she said, her voice clipped. "But I'm better equipped to defend myself from threats… even those within the Keep."

She said the word 'keep' strangely, and a darkly thoughtful look crossed her face.

"You have a suspect in mind," Genn realised, narrowing his eyes shrewdly. "One who isn't Horde."

"Rohas Anguile," she muttered eventually, after a heavy pause. "I suspect he's behind most of the rumours following me around the Keep, and he's had his daughter trying to run me off."

"I see," Genn said slowly, not wanting to invalidate her concerns, but not necessarily agreeing, either. "Well… he's a snake, I'll give you that, but that's a far cry from being a murderer and a warmonger."

"I know… I have no proof," she said bitterly. "Only my instincts… and my gut feeling isn't a good enough reason to hang a man. It could be the only thing he's guilty of is being a meddling ass."

She let out a long sigh, and wrung her hands in front of her in agitation.

"I'm just getting a bit tired of being shot at or blown up every other week."

"Really? It happens so often I was starting to think you enjoyed it," Genn said gently, patting her comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Ha, ha," she growled, shooting Genn a look that reminded him uncannily of Varian.

"We'll get to the bottom of this, dear girl, I promise," he added, more seriously. "Keep your chin up, eh?"

She nodded reluctantly, but seemed to be heartened slightly as she stepped back and opened a portal to Stormwind. The shining spires of the Alliance capital gleamed at Genn through a hole of shimmering blue-white, and he was suddenly struck by the urge to leave the desolate Barrens far behind. He moved swiftly towards the portal, leading his gryphon behind him, only to pause upon the threshold and glance back over his shoulder.

"Oh… and Auriana?"

"Yes?" she said, tilting her head slightly to the side.

"For what it's worth, I'm impressed. I know it must be trying to be the victim of multiple assassination attempts, but you've handled yourself with more intelligence and dignity than anyone would have a right to ask of you," Genn said sincerely. "You're going to make a damn fine queen."

Her mouth fell open in surprise as he turned away, and the last thing he heard was her very awkward thanks as he smiled to himself and stepped through the portal to Stormwind, and home.


	13. Anguile

Duke Rohas Anguile stared broodingly out the window at the rolling foothills nestled beneath the Redridge Mountains, and sighed as he took a pensive sip of his wine. It had been some time since he had returned home to his familial home of Rosendale, a sprawling estate on the outskirts of Lakeshire, and he only wished his return had been under better circumstances. As was befitting a man of his status, he had holdings across the Eastern Kingdoms, including within Stormwind city itself, but Rosendale would always be his true home. There was simply no place on Azeroth that could rival it for elegance or opulence, at least not since Anguile had inherited the manor in his youth. The great house had admittedly suffered for his father's lack of taste and care, but had flourished beneath his steady hand and impeccable taste. He had never been a warrior like his father or his younger brother, but had instead found strength in other ways. His education had naturally been superb, and he considered himself an expert in at least a dozen fields; including economics, politics, philosophy, and architecture. Under his governance, his House had risen to the very height of prominence within Stormwind society, and he saw Rosendale as a living testament to his skill and success.

Of course, on this occasion, he had not returned to his ancestral home simply to admire the view. He typically preferred to spend his time in Stormwind, so that he might keep a close eye on all political movements within the city, but given the recent spate of bombings that had besieged the human capital, he had thought it best to retreat to the quietness of his private estates. Varian Wrynn had turned the city on its head in his quest to find the parties responsible for the attacks on his son and his consort, and Anguile had loudly announced his intent to return to Rosendale until the danger had passed.

In truth, however, his concerns ran far deeper than the safety of his household. He knew they were not  _really_  in danger, though it was a convenient enough excuse. What he really feared, however, was Wrynn finding out the extent to which he had been involved in the planning and execution of the attacks. Anguile was never a man to directly involve himself in the nasty reality of an assassination, and would certainly never  _dream_  of handling a bomb himself… but he  _had_  been responsible for putting a price on Auriana Fenwild's head.

If all had gone to plan, the King would even now be morning the loss of his blue-eyed whore, but the attempt had ultimately proven a failure. From all reports, the young mage had escaped the bombing incident largely unharmed, and had even managed to save the Prince of Stormwind from the simultaneous attempt on  _his_  life. Anguile was a practical man, and while he had not planned to move against Anduin Wrynn just  _yet_ , it had been necessary to support the assassination attempt on the prince in order secure the reciprocal support of those willing to kill Auriana on his behalf.

 _Patience,_  he reminded himself sternly.  _You have played a long game thus far, and you can play a longer game still. She_ will _die._

His dark thoughts were suddenly interrupted by soft, hesitant knock at his chamber door, and a second later he heard the soft voice of his housemaid, Hemma.

"Milord?" she called anxiously. "There's a gentleman here to see you."

"Did he give his name?" Anguile sighed irritably.

He was not at all in the mood for company, particularly the kind of company that was unexpected, and he was frankly surprised that the usually efficient Hemma had not already run the visitor off.

"N-no, milord, but he was most insistent," Hemma said quaveringly.

Even through the heavy oak wood of the door, it was clear that she was uncertain, and Anguile wondered who could have provoked such a response in his normally unflappable maid. His curiosity piqued, he strode over to the door and pulled it open, and was forced to hide his exclamation of surprise beneath a painfully fake cough. Standing on his threshold was the last person on Azeroth he had expected to see; a tall, long-limbed individual with a crooked nose and mottled black and grey hair. He was smiling strangely, clearly pleased to have thrown Anguile with his mere presence, and he stood with the relaxed confidence of a man who was both invited and welcome. Anguile had no doubt that he had used both his charm and his frightening charisma to push past poor Hemma, and he felt a flash of sympathy for the hapless maid.

Fortunately, Hemma seemed not to have noticed the undercurrent of tension swelling between the two men, and she simply stared patiently up at Anguile as she awaited his orders. She was the ideal type of servant, really – smart enough to be good at her job, but ultimately too stupid and loyal to truly appreciate the depths of Anguile's political machinations.

"Should I call the guards, milord?" Hemma asked worriedly. "I know he's unexpected, but he said he was a friend of yours, and that it was right important that he speak to you."

"No, it's quite alright," Anguile assured her, though his wary gaze never left the other man's face. "That will be all, Hemma."

"As you wish, milord," she said quickly, as she gave Anguile a small curtsey and bustled off down the corridor.

The tall man watched Hemma amusedly over his shoulder as she departed, before striding into Anguile's private parlour like he owned the place. The only name he had ever given was Thorne, though whether it was supposed to be a first name, a last name, or something altogether made up, Anguile didn't know. What he  _did_  know, however, was that Thorne was a singularly dangerous individual. He was not dangerous in an obvious way, like the Varian Wrynns of the world, but he possessed his own brand of quiet deadliness that was equally impressive in its own right. There was also something not quite sane lurking in the depths of his unerringly black eyes, and Anguile found his overall presence to be rather unsettling.

At the end of the day though, Thorne was a very necessary evil. Anguile never would have entered into a relationship with such a violent and unstable man by  _choice_ , but the sudden revelation of Auriana Fenwild's relationship with the King of Stormwind had forced his hand. Thorne had initially approached him on behalf of a shadowy group of nobles and merchants who wished to reignite the interminable war between the Alliance and the Horde, and wanted the aid of Anguile's considerable resources. For some of them, war was simply a matter of good business, while others had joined Thorne's group on ideological grounds. In truth, Anguile cared little for their cause, but he hated to get his hands dirty, and he had bartered his power and influence in exchange for Auriana's assassination. Of course, it didn't hurt that he stood to make a great deal of money from a protracted war, owing to his extensive ore and lumber holdings, though his true target was and would ever be the throne of Stormwind.

"What are you doing here?" Anguile demanded, the moment his door was closed. "This is  _not_  how we meet!"

"Now, now, my lord, don't get flustered," Thorne said calmly, strolling slowly around the room and eyeing off the impressive collection of art and relics that lined Anguile's study. "I was careful. No one will ever know I was here."

"We have rules for this sort of thing!  _Protocols_ ," Anguile insisted archly. "And I am a lord. Lords do not get  _flustered_."

"Suit yourself," Thorne shrugged, blithely taking a seat in Anguile's favourite leather chair. "But I'm here now, and we really ought to talk."

Anguile chaffed at the intrusion, though he didn't necessarily disagree with Thorne's conclusion. The failed bombings had thrown a considerable kink in both their plans, and he had intended to eventually contact Thorne using one of their many discreet methods of communication. It was quite unprecedented for the man to show up on his doorstep, given the importance of keeping their operation a secret, and Anguile wondered if Thorne were perhaps a good deal more rattled by his failure than his eerily jocular appearance would otherwise suggest.

"I suppose you want a drink, then," he said bluntly.

"Rumour has it you have a case of oak-aged port smuggled out of Lordaeron before the fall," Thorne said keenly, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs with surprising delicacy. "Only case left in the whole wide world…"

Anguile winced distastefully as he glanced over at Thorne's muddy boots, though he nevertheless made his way over to his liquor cabinet to pour the man a drink. Thorne may have been an unmannered rogue, but Anguile was a man of breeding, and he would see to it that the niceties were observed – at least to a point.

"Why should I reward you?" he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You failed to kill the Prince, and you failed to kill the King's little wench."

He poured a glass of the poorest vintage he had, though it was still undoubtedly the finest glass of wine Thorne would ever drink, and thrust it roughly into the slender assassin's waiting hands.

"Tell me, Thorne, what good are you?"

"Oh, I'm all kinds of good, my lord. Unfortunately, the little mage is… more resourceful than I believed," Thorne admitted, "And uncommonly lucky."

" _Lucky_?" Anguile snorted. "The way I hear it, she never would have got to the Prince in time if not for your gloating."

"Ah," Thorne drawled slowly, his eyes lighting up with a strange sort of glee. "You had your spies watching… you do not trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone," Anguile said levelly, taking a sip of his wine. "Least of all you."

"I was not gloating, my lord. I was protecting my life… and our cause," Thorne said primly. "She had me at her mercy. If I had not distracted her with tell of the Prince's imminent demise, I would have been taken and tortured, and all our scheming would have been revealed to the King of Stormwind – including  _your_  part in ordering the death of his paramour. I don't know Wrynn personally, of course, but I can't imagine he'd react  _well_."

"Bah," Anguile snorted. "You would talk so easily?"

"Have ever tortured someone, Anguile?" Thorne asked, licking his lips delightedly at the thought. "Everyone talks, eventually. I doubt  _you'd_  be particularly stoic if that little berserker were trying to burn  _your_  face off. In this case, I thought it best to live to try another day."

Anguile grunted dismissively, but even he had to admit Thorne had a point. He despised Auriana, but only a fool would ignore her destructive potential. She was already enough like a wild animal as it was, beholden to her baser instincts, and he feared what she might become were Wrynn to let her off her leash.

"We could forget her, you know," Thorne suggested thoughtfully. "Keep our focus on the boy alone. After all, that was our original plan."

" _Your_  original plan," Anguile snapped. "Have you forgotten our bargain? I joined your little crusade on one condition… that you bring me her head. You want my support, my contacts, my resources? She dies."

He glared down at Thorne coldly, but the assassin seemed supremely unconcerned. Thorne sipped his wine as calmly as if they were discussing the weather, instead of the murder of a crown prince and a king's consort.

"Why do you want her dead so badly, anyway?" Thorne wondered. "You never told me."

"She has insulted me, and my House, and she threatened my daughter," Anguile explained irritably. "She is an upstart. She is no true noble, and yet she walks around like she owns Stormwind. I have worked for  _years_  to try to sway Wrynn towards a second marriage with a woman of appropriate calibre, and then  _she_  appears out of nowhere to seduces him with her magic."

His fingers tightened imperceptibly around his glass in his anger, but he gave no other outward sign. Civilised men did not show their displeasure through shouting or bluster, of course, and he refused to let Thorne's impertinent questioning get under his skin.

"'A woman of appropriate calibre'… by which you mean your daughter, of course," Thorne supplied.

The assassin's gaze was suddenly sharp and intense, and he placed his wine very deliberately down on the table beside his chair. He leaned forward, tenting his fingers thoughtfully against one another, and gave Anguile an unsettling look that suggested he knew far too much.

"Of course," Anguile snapped. "She would make a fine queen. She is educated, cultured, and beautiful… not some mongrel wildling from a dead line."

"Not to mention that sweet, innocent Cathelora would be all too willing to let  _father dearest_  help her rule Stormwind," Thorne said knowingly, tapping the side of his nose with an irritating grin. "Really, though… if you want the throne, why not stage a coup?"

"Wrynn is popular in the city, and his allies in the greater Alliance would never stand to see him overthrown. Furthermore, while our King may be an oaf, he has a genuine talent for violence. One I do not share," Anguile sniffed, brushing an imagined spot of dirt from the shoulder of his immaculate robes. "Better to pull the strings from behind the scenes."

"Then why not simply present your daughter to the Prince?" Thorne speculated. "He's of marriageable age, and as I understand these things, Wrynn has to start considering matches soon."

"For much the same reason you do not want to see him on the throne. I won't have my grandchildren sired by a weakling," Anguile insisted passionately.

He swirled his wine, staring thoughtfully into his glass as he contemplated the Prince's breeding. The history of Stormwind's noble families was something of a hobby of his, and he had despite the prevailing opinions of the common folk, he had never thought the Ellerian girl a proper match for royalty.

"Prince Anduin has too much of his mother's blood in him," he remarked. "She wasn't a proper noble, either, you know. Her family were only admitted to the House of Nobles because her father traded her off to the Wrynns. Their seat was _bought_ , they have no natural right to power."

Anguile's family was old, his distant ancestors having been among those who had left Arathor and come south to found Stormwind, and he did not consider anyone with a younger bloodline to be  _truly_ noble.

"You're just sore you didn't make a deal before Ellerian did," Thorne snorted, once again picking up his drink and tilting it forward in a mocking toast.

"I  _will_  see my grandchild on that throne," Anguile said, ignoring the biting comment with gritted teeth. "Assuming  _you_  keep up your end of the bargain. Light forbid, I will  _not_  have Wrynn breeding that little imposter of his."

He glowered as he imagined Auriana's belly swollen with the King's child, and his chest felt suddenly tight with great fury.

"I believed her, you know, when she insisted that they were merely friends," he muttered darkly, almost forgetting Thorne was there. "I thought her too stupid and guileless to manipulate him so well… and now she has her claws in him far too deeply to be removed without great effort."

He sighed, and turned back to face Thorne. Oddly enough, the assassin seemed delighted by his vitriol, and the feral gleam in his eyes burned even brighter.

"She has interfered with  _both_  of our plans, and as long as she lives, Wrynn will be harder to manipulate," Anguile added seriously. "Neither of us will see our goals come to fruition while she lives."

"Very well," Thorne agreed, smiling amicably and spreading his arms wide. "Though I doubt we'll have much of an opportunity to strike now. After the bombings, SI:7 will have surely patched the holes in their security around the Keep. It will be nearly impossible to reach either of our targets now."

"For what I'm paying you, I hope you have an idea…" Anguile pointed out coldly.

"Wrynn will no doubt have the Keep on high alert until the threat is neutralised," Thorne replied, drumming his fingers on the outside of his glass. "We need to make him believe that he has caught his assassins. We wait for his paranoia to die down, and then we strike again. You will get your mage's head… and  _I_  will get my war."

His eyes widened fanatically as he spoke, and his thirst for blood was suddenly palpable. Thorne had never explained why he was so desperate to fight the Horde, and Anguile had never asked. It seemed a rather personal sort of thing, and of course there was little point provoking an emotional respone from a man who was already half mad.

"Who do you suggest we pin this on, then?" he asked interestedly.

"The crown has many enemies," Thorne said, shrugging. "Enemies who would not hesitate to cause Varian Wrynn great suffering. I will plant evidence to redirect Mathias Shaw's investigation and throw the king's hounds of our scent."

"Do you what you must, then, but do not continue to underestimate that mage," Anguile warned. "And spare me the details. The less I know, the better."

"Ha! You'd sell me out in a second, wouldn't you, old man, if you thought it'd help you keep your head. I assure you, my lord, I won't underestimate her a second time," Thorne replied coolly. "I have seen her in action twice, now, and have a much better understanding of her...  _considerable_... abilities."

Much to Anguile's surprise, he sounded almost impressed by Auriana's magical prowess, which for Anguile's purposes simply would not do.

"I would be disappointed to find that you sympathise with her," he said warningly.

"Of course not. She treats with the Horde, when she should hate them more than anyone," Thorne growled bitterly, showing true anger for the first time. "Though I cannot deny that she has a certain…tenacity."

"Bah! A dog after a bone has tenacity. Hardly an admirable trait," Anguile scoffed.

"That may be so, but she  _is_ a significant impediment to the success of our plans. Both those bombs would have succeeded if she had not protected herself magically," Thorne argued. "If we are to kill her – or the Prince – we need to take her powers out of the equation."

"Again, I'm assuming you have some sort of plan…"

"There  _are_  ways to cripple mages, though over the years the Kirin Tor have done their best to ensure that these methods remain secret," Thorne mused, finishing the last of his wine. "Fortunately for you, I'm a man of many talents. It will be difficult and costly to counter our little mage friend's powers directly but… possible."

"Whatever you need from me, you shall have," Anguile insisted, his jaw clenching. "I will spare no expense in this matter."

"I thought you'd say as much," Thorne grinned, his disturbingly jocose mask snapping back into place. "I shall attend to it right away."

"Yes, you will," Anguile murmured, glancing pointedly towards the door with a single raised eyebrow.

Thorne was clearly no man of culture, but he was at the very least intelligent, and he was surely not so dense as to fail to notice Anguile's displeasure. He had overstayed his welcome the moment he had appeared, and Anguile did not wish to risk exposure for a second longer. He liked his head attached to his neck, and what they had planned was most definitely treason. A necessary treason, perhaps, but a treason none the less.

Fortunately, Thorne seemed to have taken the hint, and he rose to his feet with a faint smile.

"I'll be on my way then, my lord," he said, only the slightest hint of sarcasm in his tone. "It's been a pleasure, as always."

"I'm sure," Anguile said, waving his hand dismissively at the assassin as he made to pour himself another glass of wine.

He thought he heard Thorne laugh under his breath, but the man nevertheless gave Anguile what might have almost passed for a bow, before slinking off towards the parlour door. Anguile studied him closely for a brief moment, wondering what on earth had happened to the man to warp his mind so strangely, before turning his back contemptuosly without so much as an attempt at a cordial farewell. Thorne had his uses, to be sure, but he was still mere commoner, and Anguile was thoroughly tired of being disrespected within his own halls.

"Oh, and Thorne? One more thing," he murmured coldly, resuming his solemn vigil at the window with an air supreme disdain. "If you value your continued existence...  _never_  come here uninvited again..."


	14. Varian

It was late in Stormwind, perhaps an hour or so after midnight, but Varian was nevertheless wide awake. Auriana had returned from her secret mission to Kalimdor days ago, and yet he still felt his heart pound anxiously every time she was out of his sight. He saw assassins in every shadow, and more than once he had terrified a maidservant or guard when one had appeared to him unexpectedly. It also didn't help that she had returned from her journey with barely any actionable intelligence, nor that the normally efficient Mathias Shaw had failed to turn up anything else of value.

Varian had taken to watching Auriana as she slept, finding it one of the only things he could do to properly ease his seething heart. She looked far softer in sleep than she ever did while she was awake, and he loved the way her nose crinkled and twitched as she dreamed. Sometimes, she whimpered or cried out as she was pulled into the depths of a nightmare, but much to Varian's relief, such occasions had gradually become more few and far between.

Tonight, she was sprawled face down against her pillow, her dark hair fanned wildly across her bare shoulders. She was curled up in a tiny ball, her fingers knotted in the warmth of a dark pelt, and try as he might, Varian couldn't resist the temptation to run his fingers down the line of her back. Her skin was cool and soft, and for a brief time Varian forgot his troubles as he lost himself in the simple pleasure of touching the woman he loved.

The moment was over far too soon, however, as Auriana suddenly twitched and shifted beneath his hand. Very cognisant of waking her, Varian pulled back, but it appeared the damage was already done.

"Varian…" she muttered suddenly, her words slightly muffled by the bedsheets beneath her cheek. "I thought we'd talked about you watching me sleep…"

"I'm not," he protested, rolling onto his back and trying to sound as innocent as possible.

"Oh, of course not," she murmured sarcastically.

Varian felt her move suddenly beside him, and a second later he saw a burst of fire flare from her fingers as she lit one of the sconces that lined the walls. The room was instantly bathed in soft orange light, affording Varian a shadowed vision of her pale face as she gazed patiently across at him. She looked faintly amused by his protective habits, but her tolerant, sleepy expression soon faded into one of concern.

"Varian… are you alright?" she asked seriously, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

"I'm fine," Varian grunted dismissively, his jaw tightening in agitation.

"I suppose that's why you haven't slept properly in days," she remarked lightly. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

Auriana pulled herself upright so that she was sitting with her legs crossed, and wrapped a fur around her shoulders to keep warm. The flickering torchlight had turned her hair a rich shade of mahogany, and she stared down at Varian with soft, dark eyes. He knew that she walking carefully around him of late, not wishing to provoke him, but it seemed that even she had reached the limit of her tolerance for his stony silences and short-burning temper.

"Talk to me," she implored him quietly, reaching out to rest a small hand against the hard muscle of his stomach.

Varian sighed reluctantly, but after his recent ill-advised concealment of the night elf delegation and Shaw's investigation, he  _had_ resolved to be more open with her. He had been alone for so long that it was difficult to let  _anyone_  into his confidence, but for Auriana he was willing to rise above his inherent wariness and solitary nature.

"Every time I close my eyes, I see those bombs…" he growled darkly, after a long pause. "If you hadn't shielded yourself… if you had been a  _second_  later getting to Anduin… I would have lost everything..."

Auriana winced sympathetically, and Varian felt her fingers tremble slightly where they rested against his body. She said nothing, however, instead allowing him time and space to gather his thoughts.

"People think me strong, but I am not strong enough to survive losing my only son," he whispered brokenly, running a weary hand across his eyes. "Or losing you."

He hated to admit such weakness, even to her, and the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I watch you over you as you sleep because it's my duty," he added stiffly. "And it… it seems just about the only thing I can do properly of late."

"What?" Auriana said sharply, cocking her head to the side in confusion. "You do plenty of things 'properly'. You're a fine warrior… a wonderful father… a great king… I don't understand."

Her voice deepened with the strength of her conviction, and ordinarily Varian would have found her faith in him incredibly flattering. Tonight, however, it simply served as a stinging reminder of how little he deserved her trust.

"I promised you that I would keep you safe," he grumbled irritably, though his anger was not truly directed at her. "Thus far I have done a rather poor job of keeping that promise."

"You couldn't have anticipated a  _bombing,_ Varian," Auriana countered. "You couldn't have known they would go that far."

"Couldn't I? Even after you were poisoned and shot at?" he snapped. "I never should have let you out of the Keep."

"Varian…" she said tiredly. "You can't lock me away for the rest of my life…"

"I know, I know…" he huffed, not wanting to be drawn into yet  _another_  argument over the boundaries of his desire to keep her safe.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," she said quickly. "It's just… people like these assassins… they  _want_  us to be afraid. To stop living our lives. I refuse to cower like a frightened dog with its tail between its legs."

She sat up straighter, and her eyes took on a steely, determined shine.

"We're going to find these people.  _Together_ ," she said firmly, reaching out to grasp her hand. "I know my trip to Kalimdor wasn't as informative as it might have been, but we at least have  _something._  More than we did before, in any case."

"Do you really trust the troll?" Varian snorted derisively.

"I do," Auriana said firmly, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "He has certainly proved his trustworthiness… and has done so more than once, I might add."

Her eyes softened with affection, and it was clear to Varian that there were at least some memories of her time in Draenor that she looked back upon fondly.

"You were pleased to see him," he observed, fighting to keep his tone neutral.

"I was. Honestly… it was nice to know that our friendship wasn't a mere matter of necessity," she admitted, looking thoughtfully down at his hands. "I  _like_ him. And… I'm still his 'little lion', apparently."

"You're not his anything," Varian grumbled, the words leaving his mouth more quickly than he had intended. "Lion or otherwise. You're  _mine_. My… my… er… she-wolf."

"Oh, don't you start with the nicknames," she warned him. "Really… what's wrong with 'Auriana'? It's not that hard to pronounce, surely..."

She smiled good-naturedly, but Varian did not return the gesture. Instead, he glowered deep into the darkness, at once detesting himself for his own pettiness, whilst at the same time feeling entirely justified.

"Wait a minute…" Auriana murmured, her eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You're  _jealous_."

"No…" Varian lied, fixing his eyes on the ceiling.

" _Really_?" she exclaimed, her voice ringing with disapproval. "He's a  _troll_ , Varian, I'm pretty sure his legs are as long as I am tall. What on earth do you think is going to happen there?"

"It isn't  _that_ ," he huffed irritably. "Unless…"

" _No_!" she yelped. "Not least because I would never betray you that way."

She frowned, and hugged the fur blanket tighter around her slender shoulders.

"Why does our friendship bother you so much?" she asked. "Is it because he's Horde?"

"I would be lying if I said that wasn't part of it," Varian admitted.

He ground his teeth, fighting back the urge to ignore her question, only to eventually relent with a long sigh.

"But… on Draenor… he protected you when I couldn't," he muttered lowly. "He fought alongside you, saved your life… and now, with all that's going on… you went to  _him_  for help."

"Because he had information I needed!" Auriana argued, the colour rising in her cheeks. "Not because I feel  _safe_  with him."

"Don't you?" Varian countered.

"Well… yes. But he's not  _you_. It's not the same thing," she said dismissively.

"But you do trust him," Varian grumbled.

"I… I don't understand, Varian. What is it… if you can't save me, no-one can?" she wondered, her lips drawing into a thin line. "Would you prefer me dead?"

Auriana threw her hands up in frustration, hugging her fur tightly around her naked body as she lay down on her side and turned away from him. The tension in the room was suddenly so thick that it could be cut with a knife, and Varian bitterly regretted opening his mouth. He  _was_  jealous, but if jealousy was the price he had to pay for Auriana's life, he would gladly pay it every time. It seemed that she was now entirely fed up with him, however, and privately, Varian couldn't blame her. He had spoken without thinking, and while he certainly hadn't intended to suggest that her life had value only as far as he was there to protect it, he understood how she had come to that conclusion.

In truth, he wasn't really sure  _how_  to explain the complex storm of emotions that swirled within him, even if she were willing to listen, and he instead fell back into a deep, brooding stillness. The only sound in the room now was Auriana's quiet breathing, though he could tell from the speed of it that she was upset. He did not seek to interrupt her, however, instead letting the suffocating silence swell between them until it was almost unbearable.

"Varian…"

When Auriana finally spoke, many long minutes later, her voice was ever so slightly strained, and there was a distinct weariness to her tone.

"I didn't mean to imply…" he started gruffly, but she cut him off.

"I know," she said shortly. "Just listen, will you?"

She kept her face pointedly turned away from him, but her words were perfectly clear as she began to speak.

"You and I don't really talk about this, but when we first met, I was suicidal," she said softly.

"Auri…" he murmured sadly.

"No. Let me finish…" she insisted, her voice quiet but firm. "When I came to Draenor, I was… hollow. I never would have done it myself, I don't think, but I was more than willing to go out in a blaze of glory against Garrosh Hellscream."

Auriana curled herself tightly in a small ball as she spoke, and Varian's heart twisted in sympathy. He resisted the urge to reach out to her, however, unsure how she would react to his touch.

"It would have been so easy to convince myself that my life was a necessary sacrifice for the Alliance, but… that wouldn't have been the truth," she confessed. "I was so  _angry_  and so  _alone_ , and I couldn't see a future beyond killing Garrosh in the most painful way possible… and then there was  _you_."

"We weren't together when you confronted him," Varian pointed out.

"No… but I think a part of me knew, even then," she mused. "Er…  _very_ deep down. It had been so long since I'd even really talked to someone, let alone opened up the way I did with you."

"That was you  _opening up_?" Varian said disbelievingly, remembering back to his first tense, awkward meetings with Auriana.

Getting her to talk to him about even the simplest things had been like pulling teeth, and he honestly couldn't have imagined her being any more reticent.

"Yes, it was," she growled, "But I'm not going to argue semantics with you. My point is… you gave me my fight back. Perhaps I don't tell you this enough, but… you're my  _hero_. You've saved my life in so many ways…and I  _never_  feel safer than when I'm at your side. It's you, Varian, it's always  _been_  you, and if you don't understand that by now… I… I don't know what else to say..."

Varian had sat upon the throne of Stormwind for many long years, but he had never felt more like a king than in that moment. Auriana's words lit a fierce, all-consuming fire in his chest, drowning out his pain and anger, and this time he did not hesitate to take her into his arms. She stiffened slightly as he drew her close, but she slowly began to relax as he trailed a line of tender, urgent kisses across the width of her shoulders.

Her back was still turned towards him, but Varian was in no hurry to move. He loved holding her in this position; relishing the way the smooth curve of her buttocks fit perfectly against the cradle of his hips. Every inch of her bare skin was pressed against his, and each crest and valley of her body was left open to his waiting hands. Varian was no wordsmith, though even if he had been, he knew that there were not enough words in the world to adequately describe the depth of his love for Auriana. He did not even try to speak to her, instead worshipping her wordlessly with his touch and praying that she understood his meaning.

With a quiet growl, Varian pressed his face roughly against the arch of Auriana's neck, and bit down upon her soft, exposed skin. As it always did, the sweet, wildflower scent of her hair made the blood pound in his veins, and his touch slowly grew more amorous. He slid his hand tentatively across the swell of her breast, sending a shiver racing down her spine, before tracing his fingers carefully along the sinuous curve of her waist and lifting her hips so that he might bury himself deep within her body.

Although she had remained unusually silent during his earlier attentions, Auriana gasped as he finally filled her, and Varian growled deep within his chest in satisfaction. He did not move to take her immediately, however, instead simply holding her close, connected as intimately as two people could possibly be.

"I could stay like this forever," he mumbled raggedly. "Light, Auriana… I…"

"I know," she whispered, reaching up behind her head to knot her fingers in his hair. "I know…"

Her body tensed around him, as if to echo the raw emotion in her words, and it was she who first began to move. She slowly slid her body along his length, teasing every inch of him, before grinding the tender flesh of her buttocks back against him with a soft sigh. Groaning, Varian's broad palm closed tightly over the sharp edge of her hipbone, and he held her hard against him as they fell into a powerful, unspoken rhythm.

Varian was a fierce, red-blooded man by nature, but tonight was not about physical pleasures alone. Instead, he spoke to Auriana with his body in a way that he never could with words; giving her all the seething fear and uncertainty and burning rage that kept him up at night. He hid nothing of himself from her, and she took him all, arching her back and pressing fiercely back against his every aching, desperate thrust.

Eventually, however, Varian found it harder to deny the pressure building deep within his loins, or the way Auriana had begun to softly moan his name. He pushed her gently onto her stomach, taking a more dominant position over her body as he slid his hand to the back of her neck and closed his fingers around her throat. Fire kindled in his bones as he pushed himself even deeper within her, and his earlier tenderness gave way to a wild, primal abandon. Auriana, too, responded in kind, burying her face into deep into the soft furs and crying out fiercely as they both built towards the inexorable edge of their passion.

Varian grunted loudly as he finally came, his body shuddering uncontrollably as he spent every last drop of himself within the warmth of Auriana's sex. She quivered wildly in response, her fingers opening and closing in the furs as she shifted and moaned beneath him, and it was a long time before Varian could bear to be parted from her. The end of their lovemaking was always bittersweet, and if not for the fact that he feared he would crush her to death, Varian would have happily stayed within her all night.

Instead, he waited until Auriana's breathing had finally slowed, before he lifted himself clear of her body and rolled over onto his back. Auriana followed suit, staring deep into his eyes for several long moments, before she silently raised a hand and wordlessly plunged the room into darkness. She then settled the length of her body against his, tucking her head beneath his arm with a small sigh; and for the first time since the assassin's bombs had torn apart his city, Varian slept.

* * *

Varian slumbered late into the morning, and the sun was well up by the time he finally stirred. Although he would never admit it to himself, he  _had_  needed sleep, and he awoke feeling better than he had in days. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was actually able to enjoy the softness of his bed and the warmth of the furs across his chest, and he spent several minutes stretching self-indulgently before opening his eyes.

His sense of drowsy satisfaction soon turned to alarm, however, as he reached out a hand toward Auriana and found her gone.

"Auri?" he demanded urgently. "Auriana!"

Varian sat bolt upright in an instant, reaching for the knife he kept hidden beneath his bed as icy tendrils of panic gripped his heart. It was almost impossible to believe that someone could have harmed her as she lay sleeping beside him, but with everything that had happened over the past few weeks, it was difficult not to jump to conclusions.

"Varian? I'm in here," came a muffled voice, and a second later Auriana emerged from the doorway of his walk-in robe.

She was entirely unharmed, of course, though she looked somewhat confused by his desperate shouts. Varian ran a hand across his eyes in relief, and he released his grip on the knife hilt with a shaky sigh.

"Don't do that," he growled irritably.

"Oh! You thought…" Auriana realised, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry. I promise, I'm just fine."

"I can see that. Just…  _think_  before you disappear like that, will you?" he grumbled. "Where are you going, anyway?"

She was dressed in a loose tunic and sensible boots, and had clearly beeen halfway through braiding her hair when Varian had called out for her. He also noticed a long, leather wrapped parcel on his dresser that hadn't been there the night before, and he found his curiosity growing as his earlier sense of panic slowly subsided.

"Where are  _we_  going," Auriana corrected, with a small, enigmatic smile. "Get dressed."

She quietly resumed braiding her hair as Varian clambered out of bed and made his way into the wardrobe, flexing his muscles languidly as he walked. Auriana's cheeks reddened as he passed, and Varian was forced to hide a smirk behind his hand. Even though he had been bedding her for almost a year, his nakedness still made her blush, and he never failed to find it endearing.

"Are you going to give me any more information?" he asked, rifling idly through his tunics. "What am I dressing  _for_?"

"Wear something practical," she said simply. "I have an idea. And I thought you could use a release."

"I thought that's what we did last night," Varian remarked lightly, as he pulled on a pair of dark linen trousers. "I wasn't lying, you know. I really could stay in you forever."

"It might make  _walking_  a little difficult, Your Majesty," Auriana mused.

Varian chuckled to himself as he finished lacing his boots and buttoning his loose cotton tunic, and he reemerged from his wardrobe to see Auriana waiting for him with the wrapped leather bundle in her arms and two skeins of water thrown over her shoulder. She held out a small hand towards him and beckoned, her eyes sparkling with the promise of adventure.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Varian asked.

"No," she said innocently. "Do you trust me?"

"If I recall correctly, last time you asked me to trust you, we ended up in an underground fight club," he reminded her, folding his arms across his chest.

"And if  _I_ recall correctly…  _you_  had the time of your life," she countered, grinning.

"Maybe…" Varian grunted, finding that he had no real retort. "But… no guards? You know I prefer my privacy, but given recent events…"

"Well, I hadn't even  _thought_  of this plan until about an hour ago, and I haven't told anyone," she explained. "We'll going by portal, so unless these assassins are mind readers… no one is even going to know we're gone."

She stepped closer, placing a hand over his heart, and her eyes softened.

"Besides… I'll be with you," she said quietly. "I'll be perfectly safe."

"I appreciate your confidence," Varian murmured, briefly closing his fingers over hers, "But be that as it may, I'm not going anywhere unarmed…"

Auriana gave him no further argument, and she waited patiently as Varian retrieved Shalamayne from its mount upon the wall. He secured the great sword over his shoulder as Auriana summoned her magic, and a second later the world twisted and collapsed around him. He felt the odd sense of simultaneous weightlessness and compression that he had come to associate with teleportation, before the world finally righted itself and he felt the comforting solidity of the ground beneath his feet once more.

The gleaming white stone walls of the Keep had given way to clear open skies and lush green grass, and Varian sighed contentedly as he felt the light of the morning sun warm his face. He was far happier outdoors than he ever would be within the confines of a city, even if that city were Stormwind, and he instantly felt some of his lingering tension melt away.

"We're in Elwynn," he realised, driving Shalamayne point first into the ground as he took stock of his surroundings.

They were standing amidst a ring of magnificent oaks, their branches rustling in the crisp, gentle breeze that whistled through the clearing. Far to the southeast, Varian could see what he thought might be a house, but for all intents and purposes, he and Auriana were completely alone.

"We're not that far from the city, actually," she supplied, "But far enough."

As she spoke, Auriana fiddled with the ties on the leather bundle in her arms, and a second later two wooden practice swords tumbled out onto the grass. She picked one up and tested its weight, before tossing the second to Varian with a grin.

"Where did you get these?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

"I went down to the arena while you were sleeping," she explained.

" _Alone_?" Varian demanded.

"Well… yes," she sighed guiltily. "But as you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

"Auriana…"

"Let's not get distracted, hmm?" she said quickly.

Her eyes widened pleadingly, and Varian reluctantly yielded before they were both draw into another argument.

"Distracted from what?" he asked, frowning. "You still haven't told me why we're here."

"You said you wanted to teach me the sword," she said, shrugging. "So… teach me."

"I did…" Varian said slowly. "Though if I remember correctly,  _you_ found the idea ridiculous."

"Well… I suppose I still do," she admitted sheepishly. "But… it's important to you. And... you're always happiest when you're fighting. I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone – I can learn to protect myself, and you can find an outlet for all the tension you've been carrying of late."

Her gaze was bright and earnest, and Varian realised that her offer was sincere, despite her personal reservations. He understood her objections, of course – it _did_  seem a little absurd to be teaching such a powerful mage to use such a profoundly non-magical weapon – but in Varian's experience, it was best to prepare for every eventuality. Auriana had been stripped of her magic once before, in Blackrock Foundry, and as she was now the target of a determined group of assassins, he would not squander the opportunity to give her another line of defense.

"Hmph. Very well, then," Varian agreed finally, taking a few quick steps backwards to give himself space to move. "We'll start with your grip and your stance."

He made a few lazy passes with his wooden practice blade to test the weight, before taking up a simple guard for Auriana to mimic. Sensing his intent, she swiftly moved into a guard of her own, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she copied his pose.

Had he not been a king or a gladiator, Varian had always thought he would have made a good life as an armsmaster, and he happily fell into the role of teacher as he moved to gently correct Auriana's position. Of course, he adjusted her shoulders and forearms more gently than he would have an actual soldier, and his hands lingered on her waist and hips for longer than was perhaps  _strictly_ necessary.

Strangely enough, however, she seemed very tense, holding her practice sword with an unusually brittle, white-knuckled grip.

"Auri… relax," he instructed, sweeping a critical eye over her form. "You're holding a sword, not trying to choke the life from an orc with your bare hands."

"Sorry," she murmured, flexing her fingers slightly. "You make me nervous."

"Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"A little," she confessed. "I mean… you're  _Varian Wrynn_. Learning swordplay from you is like… learning magic from someone like Aegwynn or Medivh. You're a master. It's… daunting."

"Not to mention that you've a competitive streak a mile wide," Varian added, stepping around behind her. "And you're used to being the among the best when it comes to fighting talent. Being a beginner is a strange experience for you."

"I'm not  _that_  competitive," Auriana protested weakly. "Am I?"

"Why do you think I love you?" he asked, leaning down to whisper the words right against her ear.

His closeness made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and Varian couldn't help but to grin.

"You should hold a sword like you hold a woman. Too strong, and you'd crush her. Too soft, and she'll get away from you," he explained. "Your grip should be firm, but not vicelike."

"I should hold a sword like… like a  _what_?" Auriana laughed, the movement of her shoulders causing her practice blade to shake wildly.

"Stop giggling, woman," Varian warned her, though his voice was warm. "I'm serious. It's something I heard a paladin armsmaster say once, and it sort of stuck with me. Though, now that I think about it, he was a rather odd man."

"You're calling  _him_  odd?" she said incredulously. "Tell me, Varian… last night, when we were making love… were you thinking about me, or Shalamayne?"

Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced up at him over her shoulder, and Varian felt his ears redden.

"Just… change your grip," he huffed, sliding his hands down her arms and helping to relax her rigid fingers. "Now, keep your wrist straight, and your elbow slightly bent…"

"Like this?" she asked.

"Good. Now, your stance should be light and responsive," he said, using one of his feet to push hers wider apart. "Keep your weight on the balls of your feet, and keep your point of balance centred. Don't lock your knees."

He reached out a hand and gently rapped her stomach, grinning as he felt her muscles tense in response.

"Don't be lazy," he admonished her. "You know better than that."

Auriana scowled in embarrassment, but she nevertheless shifted her weight and tightened the powerful muscles of her core. Fortunately, she already had some skill with a dagger, and of course she had both superb instincts and a strong awareness of her body. It wasn't the same as teaching a raw beginner with two left feet and no mind for strategy, and he was able to push her much harder than he would have an ordinary student.

Varian still started simply, of course, drilling her extensively in a number of static guard positions before he finally had her start to move. He chose his methods carefully, taking into account Auriana's small stature, and focusing on forms that favoured speed and agility over strength of arms. For her part, Auriana threw herself into the lesson with an enthusiasm that defied her earlier scepticism, biting her lip in deep concentration as she fought to master each and every technique Varian threw her way. He knew from past experience that she was a fast learner, but even then, he was impressed by how hard she worked and how well she responded to his criticisms.

He lost track of time as they worked, but he knew it had to have at least been a couple of hours. After he was satisfied that Auriana had sufficient knowledge of the basics, Varian had given her a few simple, choreographed patterns to practice, making her repeat them over and over again until she could perform them flawlessly. She had begun to sweat lightly from the effort, but she never stopped, never asked for him to ease up, and never uttered a single word of complaint.

As Auriana became more familiar with the patterns, Varian began to push her faster, until they were trading blows at a similar rate to what she might expect in a real fight. He still worked within the bounds of her limited knowledge, of course, but it was useful to get her moving and thinking like a real swordsman.

Thinking to test her, Varian suddenly made a simple fake to the right, before smoothly reversing the path of his blade and coming at her from the left. To counter, she simply needed to step back and move her blade toward her left shoulder, but instead she lurched abruptly sideways, right into the path of his oncoming blow. Even for someone with his training, her awkward, unexpected movement made it was impossible to avoid hitting her, and his eyes widened in alarm. He did his best to soften the blow as best he could, but even then, the clearing echoed with a resounding crack as his wooden practice sword smashed into Auriana's side. She cried out in surprise and pain, her own sword flying from her hand as she tumbled gracelessly to the ground.

"Dammit! Auri!" he shouted frantically, immediately discarding his own sword and falling to his knees beside her. "I'm so sorry… are you alright?"

"Nice to know… you aren't… holding out on me," she coughed, holding a hand to her ribs. "Ouch… that'll bruise..."

"Broken?" Varian asked worriedly, a heavy cloud of guilt settling into the pit of his stomach.

"No, I don't think so…" she said, shaking her head. "You just knocked the wind out of me, that's all."

"Auri… I'd  _never_  hurt you intentionally," Varian swore vehemently. "You know that, right?"

"I know," she assured him, with a painful smile. "My fault, really… I misread your fake to the right, and overbalanced on my front foot. I should've moved to a guard on my left."

"That's… correct," Varian agreed, both surprised and impressed by her understanding.

His admiration was short lived however, as Auriana groaned softly and lowered her head to the ground. She was breathing heavily, though how much from pain and how much from exertion he couldn't tell, and he began to fear that she was minimising the extent of her injuries for his sake.

"Do you need a healer? I can carry you back to Stormwind…"

Varian carefully reached down and turned her chin upwards, his stomach knotting anxiously as he contemplated the damage he might have done. He expected to see tears, but instead found her eyes ablaze with the tell-tale glow of her magic. He sat back on his heels, surprised, and began to wonder if in hitting her he had inadvertently sparked her rage.

"Auri…?" he started uncertainly, only to let out a wild shout a second later as some invisible force yanked his feet out from underneath him and pulled him high into the air.

Varian's concern vanished in an instant as Auriana pushed herself to her feet and began to circle him slowly, her head titled thoughtfully to one side. Her movement was unencumbered, and the sly, playful smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth did much to convince Varian that she had not been badly hurt.

"What are you doing?"

"Revenge," she said sweetly. "You may be a master of the sword, Your Majesty, but I am a master of the arcane. You really shouldn't hit a lady, you know."

"Oh,  _very_  funny, Archmage," he growled at her, though he was very grateful that she was unharmed. "Put me down."

"Now why would I do that?" she asked innocently. "When you're finally at a height where I don't have to stand on my tiptoes to kiss you?"

Auriana stepped forward and placed two soft hands on either side of Varian's face, before leaning in to gently press her lips against his. The sensation of being upside down was somewhat strange, though Varian nevertheless found himself eagerly reciprocating her teasing kiss.

"Well, of course I like  _that_  part…" he agreed, once she had finally pulled away. "But hanging upside down is a very undignified for a King."

"You've never been much of a conventional king, my dear Varian," she pointed out, shrugging.

"And you are having  _far_  too much fun tormenting me, my sweet Auriana," he rumbled darkly, giving her his best mock glower.

Auriana was not one to be fooled so easily, however, and she returned his glare with a broad grin. It was the kind of uninhibited, carefree smile that Varian saw so rarely but loved so dearly, and he suddenly ached to have her in his arms.

"My apologies," she said lightly, though it was clear that she was anything but.

She waved a hand and spun Varian so that he was right side up once more, before carefully lowering him back to the ground and releasing her magic with a small sigh. He moved to her side the moment his feet touched the grass, pulling her roughly against him and grasping the base of her neck so that he might turn her face up towards his. Their conversation the night before had been a stark reminder of how far she had come, and he  _never_  would have imagined to one day hold her relaxed and laughing beneath a brilliant blue sky.

"I love to see you smile," he told her quietly.

"Well… I'm happy," she said simply. "Happier than I think I've ever been."

"Even with all that's been going on?" Varian wondered.

"Well, it isn't as if this is a new thing for me. Someone's  _always_  trying to kill me. I'm… very annoying, apparently," she said drily. "But… I've come to learn that the bad doesn't change the good. It doesn't change how I feel about  _you_."

"You're remarkable, you know," he said seriously, taking her small, pale face gently between his enormous hands.

"I'm not…  _remarkable_ …" she protested, but her cheeks flushed prettily at the compliment.

"You are the most remarkable woman I have ever met," Varian insisted, his tone allowing no room for further argument.

He leaned down to press his forehead against hers, and a strange energy suddenly surged in his veins. His thoughts had turned to the future the moment Auriana had kissed him at the Draenor victory parade, when she had laid their love bare before the entire kingdom, though he had never felt the weight of it more keenly than he did in that moment. He had long desired to take her as his wife, but it wasn't until the day of the parade that he had thought she might actually _accept_  his offer. If he had his way, he would have asked her that very night, but he had thought it a poor idea to put so much on her in such a short space of time. She was notoriously cautious and flighty when it came to their relationship, and Varian had suspected that if he asked too soon, he would never get a second chance.

But now… Auriana had adjusted to life in Stormwind better than Varian had ever dared hoped, and it was becoming impossible to deny that he wanted more. He also supposed he could not have asked for a more perfect setting, standing amid the wild natural beauty of his kingdom, and he began to wonder if he should simply ask her the question and have done with it.

"Auriana…" he started, pulling away so that he might look at her properly.

"Yes?"

Her luminous blue eyes were wide and trusting, and Varian felt as if there were a great pressure building inside his chest. His body suddenly surged with adrenaline, as if he were about to fight a great battle, and it abruptly occurred to him that he was entirely in uncharted waters. His marriage to Tiffin had been arranged, of course, and he realised had never fully appreciated how difficult it was for a man to declare himself so.

 _Look at you,_  he grumbled irritably at himself.  _Mighty gladiator, the King of Stormwind, and you can't even ask a woman a simple question…_

"You know… how much I care for you," he coughed forcibly, scowling down at her. "Do you… that is… would you ever consider… er…"

"Varian?" she interrupted worriedly, her forehead creasing slightly in confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? No," he assured her. "Not at all."

"You've gone all red and… blotchy," she observed, reaching up to run her fingers along the line of the scar that split his face from cheek to cheek.

"I'm perfectly well," he insisted gruffly, catching her hand and pulling it away. "Better than I've been in decades, really… because of you. And I wanted to know if…"

As he teetered on the edge of asking critical question, Varian suddenly saw a glimpse of his future… saw Auriana all in white, a golden crown glittering in her dark hair… and he hesitated. As clearly as he saw her standing resplendent by his side, he also saw another queen; a good, kind woman who had died for no other reason than that she had been  _his_. Auriana was everything he had ever wanted… but taking as her as his wife now would only serve to paint an even  _bigger_  target on her back, and Varian reluctantly realised he couldn't possibly ask while her would-be assassins remained at large.

"Er… I wanted to know if… if you wanted to return to Stormwind?" he finished hurriedly, inwardly wincing at his awkwardness.

Auriana's clever eyes narrowed in suspicion, and it was clear that she sensed something off about him. She did not seem to have guessed his true intentions, however, and she accepted the abrupt change of topic amicably enough.

"Whatever you like," she said, stepping away from him with a smile. "You probably have things to do, and I've taken enough of your time as it is."

"I needed this," he said reassuringly. "Thank you. And… I'm very sorry about your back. Are you certain you'll be alright?"

"Not the first bruise I've earned learning to fight," she said confidently. "I'll know better for next time."

"Next time?" Varian asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're going to let me continue to teach you?"

"Why not? I know I was skeptical, but it  _is_  a useful skill," she admitted. "Besides… someone's got to give you a run for your money."

"You intend to challenge  _me_?"

"As you said, I like being the best," she said simply, gathering up their practice swords and water skeins. "Being the best means beating the best. And in this case… that means you."

She turned away to open a portal to Stormwind, the very picture of innocence save for the clever sparkle in her eyes. It was enough to make him forget, even if just for a moment, the strife that awaited him back in his city and the enemies that sought to tear him down, and he barked out a short but sincere laugh. He quickly moved to collect Shalamayne, resting the blade across the width of his shoulders, before gallantly linking his arm through Auriana's and placing an amused kiss on her forehead.

"Come on, then, little blademaster," he chuckled drily. "Let's go home."


	15. Broll

Broll Bearmantle slouched up against the window of his private chamber, staring thoughtfully out over the city of Stormwind as the sun slowly made its descent below the horizon. He was not used to being bound between walls of solid stone, cut off from the comfort of the wild, and he found living in the city rather unnatural. He had every amenity he could possibly ask for, of course, having been treated like royalty since the moment he had arrived in Stormwind, but it was not quite the same as sleeping beneath the graceful boughs of Teldrassil.

At that moment, however, Broll would not have returned to Darnassus for all the trees in the world. Although he'd never admit it, Varian needed his friends, and Broll was determined to remain by the King of Stormwind's side until the mysterious assassins plaguing his family were caught. He remembered all too well the pain of losing his own beloved daughter, Anessa, and he would do whatever it took to spare Varian the same grief.

It had been just over a week since the bombing, and while there had been no further attacks in the days since, SI:7 seemed to be no closer to determining the identity of the assassins. Broll had been doing his best to help with the investigation, both assisting in the interrogation of servants, and acting as an extra guard for Anduin and Auriana. He had also tried to keep Varian calm and level-headed, though may as well have tried to fight a dragon with his bare hands for all the good it seemed to have done.

Broll had just returned to his quarters after a particularly frustrating day, and had barely taken the time to remove his boots when there came a sharp knock at his chamber door. He shook his head wearily, though he nevertheless left his spot at the window to find a heavily armoured woman with chestnut hair and a nasty scar across her neck standing on his threshold. He immediately recognised her as one of Varian's elites, having seen more than enough of them over the past few weeks, though he couldn't quite place her name.

"Greetings, Guardswoman," he said warmly. "May I be of any assistance?"

"I beg your pardon, Archdruid," she said formally, with a respectful tilt of her head, "But the King has requested your presence in the war room. Immediately."

Her voice sounded ever so slightly strained, as if she were afraid of his refusal, and Broll realised that the summons must have been quite urgent. He had not seen Varian for two days, and he wondered if there had finally been some progress in identifying the assassins.

"I will of course attend the King with all haste," Broll said quickly, offering the guardswoman a reassuring smile.

She sighed with relief and bowed slightly as she made her departure, while Broll reached for his recently discarded boots. He yanked them back on hastily, barely pausing to tie his laces before he hurried out the door and down to Varian's war room.

As Broll made his way through the white stone corridors, he couldn't help but notice a dark undercurrent of seething nervousness that pervaded the entire Keep. It seemed as if half of Stormwind's army had taken up residence inside the walls, and everyone he passed seemed on edge. Broll supposed it was inevitable, given recent events, but it was unsettling to see the normally thriving Keep on such a knife's edge.

When Broll finally arrived at the war room, he was surprised to see only Auriana waiting for him, with Varian nowhere in sight. There were half a dozen guards at the doorway, as seemed to now be the norm, but she was otherwise alone, staring down at the map table with a pensive expression. She glanced up as he entered, her bright blue eyes raking him from head to toe. She seemed incredibly tense, her posture stiff and wary, though Broll admittedly did not yet know her well enough to know whether that was usual.

Despite having spent a considerable amount of time with Auriana over the last few weeks, Broll still found her difficult to read. She was clever and wry, and certainly good company, though he always felt as if she were holding something back. It was not just that she was naturally shy, but rather that she gave the impression of keeping her real self hidden away behind carefully constructed walls.

"Good afternoon," she said quietly. "Or is it evening? In any case, I trust you're well."

"Indeed, though perhaps a little confused. Do you have any idea why we're here?" Broll asked, picking up a small flag marker and turning it over in his long fingers.

Auriana's hair was loose and her dress somewhat dishevelled, and Broll suspected that she, too, had been roused abruptly from the privacy of her chambers.

"Not a clue," she said, shrugging. "I was about to draw a bath when I was swept up by a wave of guards and brought here…"

It was clear that she was irritated by her new protections, and while Broll was sympathetic, he found he had to agree with Varian. Whether Auriana wanted to admit it or not, she  _was_  in danger, and Broll could not begrudge Varian for wanting to move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

"I assume Varian would not have asked us here if it were not important," he said placatingly.

"I wouldn't know," Auriana said shortly. "I haven't actually seen him all day."

"Still, I got the impression it was serious," Broll remarked. "Is Anduin…"

"He's fine," she said quickly, with a brief nod. "That was my first thought, too. I stopped by his temporary quarters before I came here… he's perfectly well."

"I am glad to hear it," Broll said sincerely. "The boy must be rattled by recent events."

"He is, I think, though he tries not to show it," Auriana agreed.

She walked slowly around the map table, tracing her fingers down the coast of Stranglethorn, and Broll was once again made starkly aware of how tense and tired she looked. Dark shadows ringed her eyes, and she moved with the tight, barely contained energy of a coiled spring.

"Much like you," he observed, keeping his tone carefully light.

"I'm not rattled, Broll," Auriana said firmly. "I'm angry."

Her voice was calm and even, but her eyes had taken on a dangerous glint. Broll had seen some of her power when they had duelled in Stormwind's arena, but he suspected that he had barely scratched the surface of what she could do. Like most of his people, Broll was naturally suspicious of arcane magic, and while he could appreciate the skill of a talented mage, he was in no rush to see Auriana test her limits.

"Understandable," he said sympathetically. "It must be a trying time for you."

"It's not that," she said dismissively. "Someone's always trying to kill me, it's nothing new. In a strange way, I can even appreciate why I might by a target. It's Varian I worry about. He blames himself for everything that has happened."

Auriana's expression darkened, and it seemed to Broll as if the temperature of the room had suddenly dropped by a few degrees.

"An attempt on my life is one thing. But they're using  _me_  to hurt  _him_ ," she muttered. "That I cannot forgive. I…"

She cut off abruptly as the door to the war room opened, and Broll looked up to see a grim-faced Varian standing at the threshold with Mathias Shaw by his side. As he had taken to doing of late, Varian was wearing his full armour, with Shalamayne secured firmly against his back, while Shaw was dressed in the tight, nondescript black leathers favoured by SI:7 rogues. Both men also appeared almost as tense as Auriana, though Shaw hid it far better than his King.

"You're both here," Varian rumbled approvingly, as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Good."

He eyed Auriana critically as he took his place at the head of the table, his warlike posture relaxing ever so slightly once he was satisfied that she was all in one piece.

"Why have you summoned us, Varian?" Auriana asked, glancing briefly over at Shaw. "Is something wrong?"

There was a strange undercurrent of tension between the spymaster and the archmage, and Broll got the distinct impression that neither particularly liked the other.

"As you know, SI:7 have been investigating the attacks on you and Anduin," Varian explained. "Shaw has recently obtained some information critical to the case, and I wanted you both here before he made his report."

"No Genn?" Auriana wondered.

"He's off on other business. I do still have a kingdom to run, and Genn volunteered to help ease the load while I'm caught up with all this damned spy business," Varian explained. "Shaw?"

He beckoned commandingly, and the master assassin stepped forward, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"I'm afraid it isn't good news, Your Majesty," Shaw said quietly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"More dead leads, Shaw?" Varian growled, his voice clipped. "I was under the impression you had finally discovered something actionable."

"I have. But you aren't going to like it," Shaw said, pointedly ignoring Varian's subtle criticism. "Our best evidence suggests that these attacks are the work of the… the Defias Brotherhood."

An impossibly deep silence fell over the room at his words, broken only by the sharp crack of wood as Varian splintered the edge of the war table beneath his bare hands. His face was pure thunder, and his breath came short and quick as he fought to control his rage. Broll knew that the Defias Brotherhood had been formed by the former members of Stormwind's Stonemason's Guild, whose rioting had resulted in the unfortunate death of Queen Tiffin. The Defias had also attempted to destroy the city of Stormwind, and had been involved in Varian's kidnapping and his subsequent incarceration on Alcaz Island. The sorrows of  _both_  the Defias Brotherhood and the House of Wrynn were ultimately the responsibility of the black dragon Onyxia, of course, but Broll knew that Varian could never forgive them for their part in the death of his wife, manipulated as they may have been.

"Explain," the King said stiffly, the coldness in his voice making the hairs on Broll's arms rise.

"After extensive interrogation of the castle staff, we were able to reconstruct a timeline of events leading up to the bombing of Prince Anduin's rooms," Shaw said formally, report style. "We determined that the last person in his rooms before the attack was a young woman who had been on staff for around two years. She had vanished from the Keep in the aftermath, and my agents later found her body washed up in Stormwind Harbour. Her throat had been cut."

"An act of remorse?"

"Doubtful," Shaw murmured. "Our experts determined that she had been killed the day  _before_  the bombing. We believe someone stole her identity in order to perpetrate the attack, and killed her to hide their tracks."

"How did you make a link to the Defias?" Auriana asked, cocking her head to the side skeptically.

"Her killers were not as careful as they could have been," Shaw continued. "I won't bore you with the details, but suffice to say we tracked this individual to an isolated hideout in southern Westfall. There, we found a small war camp guarded by men in Defias colours. They are not a large group, but their camp is well defended."

"I admit, I'm not as well versed in Stormwind's history as I perhaps should be – I thought the Defias had been defeated?" Broll asked, thoughtfully stroking his beard.

"Twice," Auriana supplied. "Edwin van Cleef attempted to use a Juggernaught to destroy Stormwind from the sea, but he was assassinated before he could launch his attack. His daughter, Vanessa, attempted to revive the Brotherhood during the Cataclysm, but she, too, was defeated."

"But not all of them were killed?" Broll surmised.

"No. The majority of the Defias forces were eliminated during the most recent assault on the Deadmines, though some escaped," Shaw confirmed. "We had been keeping a close eye on both Moonbrook and the mines themselves, lest anyone wish to reform the Brotherhood, but the remnants of their organisation have largely remained scattered and disorganised."

"Until now," Varian said darkly.

"But  _why_  now?" Auriana wondered. "It makes no sense. If they wanted to come after you, they've had years to do so. What's changed?"

"Perhaps it has taken them this long to rebuild their forces," Broll suggested.

"No, that it isn't it," Varian countered sharply. "Do you not see? The timing makes perfect sense. They saw how badly I was affected by the loss of my first wife… what better way to harm me and destabilise my kingdom than by taking my second from me?"

A very strange expression crossed Auriana's face at Varian's unexpected turn of phrase, but she chose to remain silent, instead turning away and resting her back against the map table with a long sigh.

"That… that still doesn't explain the attack on Anduin," she said quietly.

"Doesn't it? Do  _you_  want to see the man I would become if I lost both my only son and the woman I loved?" Varian snapped bitterly. "They would do less harm by killing me outright."

Broll considered the King of Stormwind one of his closest friends, but there was no denying that he was a very dangerous man, and even Broll feared a Varian who had lost absolutely everything that had ever mattered. Even now, anger rolled off him like heat, and for a long moment, no one dared speak.

"Shaw… do you trust your sources?" Auriana said finally, glancing sidelong at Stormwind's spymaster. "I'm no expert, and I don't mean to presume… but this whole thing feels…  _wrong_. First the Horde are attacking, and now the Defias?"

"I will admit, this investigation has been more difficult than most… and that concerns me," Shaw said slowly, never taking his eyes off her face. "If we choose to move against the Defias camp, Your Majesty, we should proceed with great caution. Archmage Fenwild  _is_  correct – there's something not quite right about all of this. I trust my men explicitly, but… I also smell a trap. I don't know why they have moved against you now, nor who they might be working with. I only know that they're involved."

Varian nodded, and he considered the information carefully before he spoke once more.

"I appreciate your concern, Shaw, but trap or no trap, it doesn't matter," he said firmly. "Defias or otherwise…  _it doesn't matter._ If there's even the  _slightest_  chance that these people pose a threat to Auriana and Anduin, I cannot suffer them to live. It's that simple."

He folded his arms across his chest, his jaw tightening in determination.

"So… Shaw… how many men are we up against here?"

"My scouts reported at least a few dozen at the camp," Shaw said, "Though there may be more."

"We don't want to let them know we're coming, lest we give them a chance to escape," Varian said, folding his arms across his chest. "A small strike force, perhaps – a half dozen of your best, aided by a squad of my elites…"

"No," Auriana said, turning back around and staring down at the map of Westfall. "We can't use SI:7, or the royal guard, or anyone else for that matter."

"What do you mean?" Varian asked, raising an eyebrow. "They are perfectly suited to a mission of this nature."

"Varian, I've been attacked while on a mission that precious few people knew anything about, and then again on a tour of the city. Someone managed to get a bomb into Anduin's  _quarters_ ," she explained. "These attacks are clearly being perpetrated by someone with some kind of inside access. I don't think we can trust anyone outside this room."

"She has a point," Broll mused.

"I concur," Shaw added. "As much as it pains me to admit, I cannot deny that there have been flaws within my network of late – flaws which are currently being exploited by persons unknown. Until I can solve the problem, our circle of trust should remain as closed as possible."

"Very well," Varian agreed, though he was clearly displeased. "In that case… Shaw, Broll and I will ride for Westfall and infiltrate the Defias hideout. Between the three of us, we have enough fighting experience to…"

" _No_ ," Auriana repeated sharply, cutting him off for a second time. "If you think you're leaving me behind, you've got another thing coming. _I_  was the one who was poisoned. That bomb was aimed at  _me_. I'm not going to hide away in the castle like a good little damsel."

"You will do as your King commands," Varian said coldly.

His tone allowed little room for argument, but Auriana seemed undaunted, being perhaps one of only two people in the whole world who would dare challenge Varian Wrynn so openly.

"I'm a mage, how are you going to stop me?" she scoffed, her small hands balling into fists. "Are you going to put me in shackles?"

"Push me and I just might!" Varian retorted angrily, striding over to her and grasping her upper arms tightly.

For a second, Broll thought Varian might actually shake her, but instead the King of Stormwind simply glowered as he loomed a full head and shoulders above his consort. Broll exchanged a worried glance with Shaw, but it was clear from the expression on the spymaster's face that he was as reluctant to intervene in the argument as Broll himself.

"Your safety is the  _only_  thing that matters to me, do you understand?" Varian muttered heatedly. "I couldn't… I couldn't live with myself if I let anything happen to you."

"I understand. Believe me, I do. But I  _need_  to come with you," Auriana argued fiercely, her voice husky with emotion. "Not least because bringing me along is the smartest tactical decision. You're going to be outnumbered, and I can cause more damage than the three of you  _combined_."

"I know you can. But I can't take the chance, I'm sorry," Varian murmured. "I can't  _lose_  you, Auri…"

He seemed to have entirely forgotten that he and Auriana were not alone, and Broll had never seen him look so vulnerable. His heavy brows were knit angrily, but his massive shoulders practically shook with tension as he clutched desperately at Auriana.

"You're not going to lose me. And you're not alone anymore, Varian. You've got my back, and I've got yours! That's how this works, we're a  _team_ ," she implored him softly. " _Please._  It's important to me."

She reached up to touch his cheek, her shining blue eyes at once both sympathetic and determined, and with a long, slow sigh, Varian finally nodded his consent. A tense moment of silence passed, before Shaw coughed quietly and shuffled his feet pointedly across the floor. Varian looked up sharply, abruptly remembering that he was not alone, and he hastily released Auriana's shoulders from his iron grip.

"Ah… Archmage… can you get us to Westfall?" Shaw asked carefully. "The camp is located here, about six miles outside of Sentinel Hill."

He pointed to a point on the map near where Westfall bordered Duskwood, and Auriana leant in for a closer look.

"Not to those exact coordinates, no. Not without serious preparation, at least, and I doubt we can afford the time. That said… I can get us close," she explained. "I know Sentinel Hill very well, and I should be able to get us to the outskirts without much difficulty."

"It will be nightfall soon. We should take advantage of the darkness," Shaw said, nodding. "Your Majesty?"

"Very well. I trust you can all make your own preparations," Varian said briskly. "We meet back here in half an hour."

* * *

Broll quickly made his way back upstairs his quarters, making directly for the handful of clothes he had stashed in his closet. He had not come to Stormwind expecting to go into battle, of course, but he had lived on Azeroth for far too long to have come entirely unprepared. He was not generally one for heavy armour, given that it was usually made redundant by the use of his bear form, though he nevertheless pulled on a pair of proper boots, gloves, and a thick leather jerkin. He also grabbed a pair of long, clawlike fist weapons, just in case, before heading back down to the war room to await the others.

Surprisingly, he was the last one to return, and he entered the room to find Varian, Auriana and Shaw all standing in awkward, uncomfortable silence. Varian had swapped his distinctive lion and eagle armour for a more modest set of dark leathers, though Shalamayne was still sheathed at his back. In a way, he now resembled Mathias Shaw himself, if not for the fact that he had not an ounce of Shaw's subtlety. Where Shaw moved with the sly, patient energy of a stalking nightsaber; Varian's aggressive, commanding presence filled the entire room.

Auriana, too, was now dressed all in black, and with her slight stature and pale skin, she resembled a faint, wispy shadow. Unlike the men, however, she was entirely unarmed, save for a slender knife strapped to her left ankle. She nodded grimly at Broll as he entered the room, before turning away to open a portal to Westfall.

It was not a simple thing, Broll knew, to open a hole in space and time, but Auriana made it look easy. She raised her hands with casual, practiced grace, and a second later a large, shimmering portal blossomed into existence in front of her. Her jaw set, she made to step through, but Varian held her back with a warning shake of his head.

"Whatever happened to ladies first?" Auriana muttered quietly, but she nevertheless allowed him to take the lead.

Shaw stepped through second, though Broll waited politely for Auriana to leave before he followed. Within seconds, the hearty warmth of Stormwind Keep gave way to the biting chill of Westfall at night, and Broll inhaled sharply as the cold air hit his lungs. He looked around, and he guessed that they were now standing about a mile outside Sentinel Hill. The bright lights of the human outpost gleamed to the north, and Broll almost thought he could make out the sound of music from the inn. An enormous full moon hung heavy in the sky above, illuminating the land for miles around and turning the fields of Westfall a magnificent silvery gold. Any other time, Broll might have appreciated the beauty of Elune's light, but in this case, he would have preferred the cover of true night to hide their approach.

"I'm surprised this Defias camp went unnoticed for so long, given its proximity to Sentinel Hill," he observed, glancing back over his shoulder.

"There hasn't been a proper patrol through Westfall in over a year," Varian said broodingly. "With most of our troops deployed in Draenor, we simply haven't had the manpower. The situation is improving, slowly, now that the war is over, but with limited resources, the patrols have focused on the more heavily populated areas."

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a compass, consulting with Shaw briefly as he adjusted his heading.

"We should get moving," Shaw suggested. "And quickly. It will take us nearly an hour to get there, even at a run."

The spymaster looked skeptically over at Auriana, dwarfed by three men twice her size, and frowned ever so slightly.

"Can you keep up?"

"I'll be just fine," she assured him evenly. "Besides… if I'm slowing us down… I can always ride the bear."

She winked slyly at Broll, before taking off for the south-east at a brisk jog. Varian immediately moved to flank her, easily taking one stride for every two of hers, while Shaw and Broll brought up the rear. Somewhat surprisingly, Auriana set a good pace, though Broll supposed that years of fighting for the Alliance had left her with a level of fitness that belied her size.

Their path soon took them to the banks of the river that separated Westfall from Duskwood, and they ran parallel to the bank for some time before they came within site of the Defias camp. Varian was the first to notice, sliding abruptly to a stop and raising his hand to signal a halt. Broll, Shaw, and Auriana all complied instantly, moving as one as they ducked down beneath the cover of the long grass. Silently, Varian gestured to the right, and the group moved to take shelter behind a small, rocky outcrop so that they might better assess the lay of the land.

True to Shaw's intelligence, the camp consisted of about a dozen tents arrayed around a decrepit old mage tower. The characteristic red bandanas of the Defias were distinctly visible in the bright moonlight, and indeed, none of the men seemed to be trying to hide. The camp was well lit, and a handful of rogues were arguing raucously around an open fire. That was not to say that the camp was undefended, of course – every man that Broll could see was heavily armed, while a half-dozen archers patrolled the perimeter with their arrows nocked.

"I count forty," Varian whispered finally.

"Forty-one," Shaw said, pointing to a spot about halfway up the rocky face that bordered the camp to the south. "There's a sharpshooter on that ridge."

"There's likely more up there, too," Auriana added, gesturing towards a dim light beaming from the very top floor of the mage tower.

"It's a terrible approach," Varian muttered irritably. "If we try to rush them from either the field or the river, we'll be cut down by the archers and that sharpshooter before we've made it twenty yards."

"Master Shaw… you have the means to render yourself invisible, do you not?" Broll asked, eyeing the spymaster thoughtfully.

"Invisible yes, but not incorporeal," Shaw said grimly. "This campsite was chosen for a reason – the grass is especially long here, almost waist high. They might not be able to see me directly, but they would most definitely notice my movements. The Defiad are primarily rogues... they know how to defend against their own kind."

"In that case… we may need a distraction," Broll suggested. "Something to draw their attention until we can get in close. Man to man, we shouldn't have any problem taking them out."

"Lucky you brought me then, huh?" Auriana murmured.

She moved to crawl back down the rock face, but Varian reached out and caught her firmly by the wrist, most of her forearm disappearing beneath his broad palm.

"Auri…"

"This is what I do for a living, Varian, and I'm very good at it.  _Trust_  me," she said calmly, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "And be ready to move."

She gently prised his fingers from her arm, her eyes glowing as white as the moon above, and a second later, she vanished. Broll immediately turned back to face the Defias camp, expecting to see Auriana reappear immediately somewhere nearby, but the area around the camp remained as quiet and still as before.

An impossibly long minute passed, then another, then  _another_ , while Varian became more agitated with each passing second. A low, dangerous growl thrummed through the King of Stormwind's chest, and Broll began to fear that his old friend would simply throw caution to the wind and charge the camp, consequences be damned.

"Dammit, Auriana…" he huffed impatiently, his hands inadvertently balling into fists as he scanned the countryside.

"It's only been a few minutes, Varian, you need to give her time," Broll said patiently, trying not to let his own worry enter his voice.

"What if she was caught?" he hissed. "They could be hurting her as we speak!"

"Please keep your voice down, Your Majesty," Shaw admonished him gently. "I'm sure we would have heard something if she'd got into trouble."

"One arrow…one  _rock_ … would be all it took…" Varian muttered painfully.

He suddenly looked very old and careworn, and Broll frowned in sympathy. He silently reached out and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder in a gesture of solidarity, but the King shook him off with an irritable grunt.

"I can't do this," he growled. "I'm going after her…"

"Wait," Shaw said, his voice low and urgent. "Is it just me, or is it getting colder?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Varian snapped.

"No, he's right…" Broll murmured, his breath sending soft puffs of vapour into the air.

The night air had always been chilly, but now it was downright  _cold_. A strange fog had started to roll in from the west, and judging from the silence that had fallen over the Defias camp, he was not the only one that had noticed. A number of men had risen to their feet, hands on their weapons, and there was so much restless energy in the air that it felt to Broll as if the entire world were balanced on the edge of a knife.

Something suddenly shimmered in the grass, and a second later a half-dozen monstrous, glittering ice spikes came flying out of nowhere. The majority of them slammed into the archers patrolling the outskirts of camp, though one went wide and caught the sharpshooter hiding on the ridge. The Defias men died instantly, skewered through the chests and throats with unerring precision, and the night came alive with wild shouts as a wave of panic raced through the camp.

A massive, unnatural  _blizzard_  suddenly swelled to life in the west, and Broll finally caught sight of Auriana. She walked in the centre of her conjured storm, the calm eye of the raging magical tempest, and she raised her arms menacingly as she advanced on the camp with deadly intent.

"Fight me, cowards!" she roared, her voice ringing unnaturally loud in the night air. "No poison, no arrows, no bombs… just you and me. You want my head? Come get it!"

Auriana sounded utterly fearless, and Broll couldnt blame her. A mage in the heat of battle was dangerous enough as it was, but a mage with time to plan a proper offensive was near unstoppable. Nevertheless, no fewer than a dozen men rushed to confront her, vanishing into the storm with their weapons raised high. Their war cries echoed loudly through the night, though it was impossible to see what was happening through the flurry of ice and steel.

"Well, that's certainly a distraction," Broll remarked. "We should get moving."

"Auri…" Varian murmured, unable to take his eyes off the raging blizzard that tore across the westward plain.

"She did her job, Majesty, now we should do ours," Shaw reminded him. "Have faith in her."

Varian hesitated, clearly torn, though he nevertheless unsheathed Shalamayne and followed close on Shaw's heels as the spymaster crept down towards the river. While nearly half the Defias men had gone to confront Auriana, the rest had fallen back to a defensive position around the tower. They stood with their weapons free, clearly not foolish enough to believe that she had come alone, and they paced restlessly as they scoured the night for any sign of further attack.

Broll shifted into his bear form as he ran, and the night came alive around him as his senses sharpened. His nose, now a thousand times more sensitive than that of any night elf or human, twitched as he inhaled the dusky scent of sweat and smoke and fear, and he growled deep in his chest as his claws rent the rich earth. He could hear Varian and Shaw breathing fast and hard behind him as they ran, though he soon outpaced them both as they barrelled into the camp.

Distracted as they were by Auriana's blizzard, the Defias did not anticipate an assault from the river, and they were slow to respond as Broll fell upon them in a frenzy. Two men fell immediately to his thrashing claws, while a third had his throat torn out before he could even raise his blade. As Broll spun to find his next target, a strangle whistling noise sounded somewhere on his left flank, and a second later he saw Shalamayne go flying through the air and imbed itself deep in the chest of a startled Defias soldier. Varian sprinted past a moment later, barely pausing to rip the sword from the dead man's body before he twisted about to face another onrushing rogue.

"Just like old times, eh, Broll?" he shouted, snarling ferociously as he slashed his new opponent across the belly.

Broll roared eagerly in answer, and he and Varian fell into a well-practiced fighting rhythm. It had been years since they had fought together, but to Broll it seemed as if it had been only yesterday that they had stood side by side in the gladiator pits of the Crimson Ring. He could predict Varian's moves as well as if they had been his own, and soon they were surrounded by the fallen bodies of any man brave enough to offer them challenge. He had no idea where Shaw was, though he assumed Stormwind's greatest assassin could more than take care of himself.

"Watch yourself!" Varian called suddenly, his sharp eyes narrowing intently as Broll came under attack from three sides.

Two rogues were slashing cleverly at his face, dancing back out of reach every time Broll tried to hit one or the other, and he could not properly turn to face his third attacker without risking a stab to his vulnerable eyes or throat. He growled menacingly as a sword raked his left flank, bouncing off his heavy hide, and his mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of his current predicament. Fortunately, Varian was one step ahead of him, and Broll grunted as he felt the King of Stormwind roll smoothly across his broad bear's back. Varian kicked out at the Defias on Broll's flank, knocking the man backwards, before following up with a brutal overhead strike that cleaved the rogue almost in two. He then turned a three-quarters circle to the left, using the momentum of his spin to bring Shalamayne up and around to slash at one of the rogues harassing Broll.

Broll grinned toothily as the man fell, and took the opportunity to rear up on his hind legs before the third attacker. He swatted at the man with his massive paws, before bringing his full weight down on the man's chest and tearing out his throat.

"We need to take the tower!" Varian shouted, brushing his wild hair back from his face as he finished off his own opponent with a flawless stop-thrust. "Shaw! On me!"

Broll shook the gore from his teeth as Varian disappeared into the mage tower, taking advantage of the brief lull in the fighting to look out across the battlefield. The camp was in ruins, and from what he could see, almost all the men who had remained outside were dead, having fallen to either the claw or the blade. Auriana's blizzard still raged in the west, though even with his heightened senses, Broll still couldn't tell where she was, or even if she were still fighting.

He could, however, see a grim and bloodied Mathias Shaw crouched over the body of a fallen Defias, and he roared to catch the human's attention. The master assassin glanced up immediately, though he carefully wiped his blades clean on the dead rogue's jerkin before approaching Broll's position.

"Varian's gone for the leader," Broll informed him quickly, wincing in pain as he shifted out of his bear form.

"We need to get in there, I want him alive," Shaw muttered, briefly glancing at the sword wound that ran along the length of Broll's thigh. "Are you alright?"

Broll followed the spymaster's line of sight, and carefully probed the wound with his fingers. It was jagged and bloody, though fortunately not deep, and a quick burst of his druidic power was enough to at least dull the pain and keep him moving.

"Not to worry," he said reassuringly. "I've had worse – and right now, we need to get to Varian."

"Agreed," Shaw said darkly. "He's not going to be thinking properly with his blood up."

Without any further preamble, the spymaster ducked warily into the doorway of the mage tower, and beckoned for Broll to follow. It was very dark inside, with only a few dimly flickering torches secured to the walls, though there was more than enough light to illuminate the handful of bodies that littered the lower floor of the tower. It seemed Varian had left no man standing, and Shaw's brow furrowed worriedly as he leapt up into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time in his haste to get to Varian before he did something foolish.

Broll ran close on Shaw's heels, ignoring the pain in his leg that twinged with every step, and in no time at all they had reached the very top of the mage tower. Inside, they found Varian standing in the middle of the room, Shalamayne raised aggressively as he stared down a tall, handsome man with a mop of dirty blonde hair. The Defias leader was leaning casually against a disorganised command table, and curiously, did not seem at all surprised to find the King of Stormwind darkening his doorway. His lower jaw was entirely obscured by his red Defias bandana, but from the eager glint in his eye, it was obvious that he was smiling.

"Hello, Your Majesty," the rogue said calmly. "I had hoped you would come yourself. Your reputation precedes you. And Mathias Shaw! The master of rogues himself. The honour is mine."

He bowed before Varian with sarcastic flourish, unsheathing the slender blade at his hip as he rose. Shaw stepped forward with a frown, flipping his knives in anticipation of a fight, but Varian quelled him with a single, penetrating look.

"Stand down, Shaw," he murmured quietly, and he could not have sounded more terrifying if he had shouted. "He's mine."

The rogue's bandana twitched as his grin widened, and he lifted his blade into a well-practiced guard. He was confident, to be sure, and he held himself with the all the grace of a seasoned fighter, but Broll would have backed Varian against any other swordsman on Azeroth in a one-on-one fight.

"You have committed high treason against the Kingdom of Stormwind and the House of Wrynn," Varian intoned gravely. "You  _will_ know justice."

"We need him alive, Your Majesty," Shaw said warningly, but Varian was beyond listening.

With a feral roar, he raised Shalamayne high over his head and lunged forward, bringing the mighty broadsword down in a blow powerful enough to split a man in two. Wisely, the rogue did not even attempt to parry, instead leaping to the side and stabbing back in at Varian's ribs. As Broll suspected, the Defias  _was_  skilled, but Varian had both rage and preternatural reflexes on his side. He quickly swept Shalamayne back and up into a reverse guard to block the rogue's strike, before using his superior strength and a quick flick of his wrist to send his enemy's sword flying out of his hand.

The blade made an unnaturally loud sound as it clattered to the floor, and the rogue froze in place as Varian brought Shalamayne up to kiss the exposed skin of his throat. Of course, there would have been little point retrieving his sword, given that it had taken Varian barely thirty seconds to disarm him, but his eyes nevertheless darted furtively to the weapon as Varian glared at him along the length of the broadsword's blade.

"Going to kill an unarmed man, King Varian?" the rogue taunted, spreading his arms wide. "How very  _noble_  of you."

Broll could see how hard his friend was struggling not to simply end the Defias leader then and there, but for now, at least, he managed to maintain control, and he abruptly tossed Shalamayne to one side.

"No," Varian said darkly. "I would rather the satisfaction of thrashing you with my bare hands."

The rogue's eyebrows arched in surprise, though he nevertheless raised his clenched fists defensively. He danced back lightly on the balls of his feet, though it was clear to Broll, at least, that this was not going to be a fight, but a beating. Varian was a natural with virtually every weapon or fighting style that had ever been invented, and he was almost as dangerous unarmed as he was with his legendary sword.

"Careful, Varian…" Broll muttered warningly, earning himself a bitter grunt in response.

The King of Stormwind kept his eyes firmly trained on his opponent; his focus so sharp that Broll and Shaw may as well have ceased to exist. He feigned abruptly to the left, forcing the rogue to lose his balance as he desperately tried to counter, before returning with a vicious body shot that left the rogue breathless and reeling. A second punch shattered the rogue's nose, while a third sent him tumbling to the ground. Howling wildly, Varian threw himself on the smaller man in a frenzy, slamming his fists over and over into the rogue's face until it was little more than a bloody pulp.

"You tried… to take her… from me," Varian roared, his chest heaving with every vicious blow. "You tried… to kill… my  _son_ …"

His voice was cracked and raw with emotion, and Broll decided it was well past time to intervene. He stepped forward, preparing to shift into his bear form if that was what it took, when Varian abruptly ceased his merciless beating, and hauled the rogue roughly to his feet. The Defias was now barely recognisable, his once light-coloured hair streaked red with his own blood, and he swayed drunkenly as Varian released him with a careless shove and turned to walk away.

"You can thank SI:7 for your life, traitor," Varian muttered heavily, his fists twitching spasmodically as he fought to control his rage. "If it were up to me, I would have your head tonight. But Shaw here has a few questions… and I will admit, I am curious to see what he can torture out of you..."

He moved off to collect Shalamayne from where it had fallen, when the rogue spat bitterly at his feet, all semblance of cockiness forgotten.

"Coward," he hissed, the word slurring through his broken teeth. "I promise you,  _Your Majesty_ , we will  _never_  stop hunting her, we will…"

The Defias man gasped as Varian whirled back to face him with impossible speed, closing a massive fist around his throat before he could utter another word. Varian's eyes were now almost pitch black with rage, and in a moment of terrible clarity, Broll realised precisely what he was about to do.

"Varian,  _no_!"

Both Broll and Shaw lunged forward at precisely the same moment, each the desperate mirror of the other, but it was far too late. The rogue's taunt had shattered what was left of Varian's already wavering control, and the rational, reasonable King utterly vanished as the unbridled fury of Lo'Gosh was finally unleashed. Broll watched in horrific slow motion as a tremor of pure rage rolled up Varian's spine, and with a sickening crack, the rogue's head jerked impossibly to one side.

It all happened so quickly that the rogue's last expression was frozen on his face even as his body went limp in Varian's hands, though it was a long time before Varian finally loosened his iron grip and let the corpse tumble to the floor. He stared down at the body strangely, as if not quite able to believe what he had done, though neither Broll nor Shaw dared approach him in such a state. The death of the rogue leader had apparently done nothing to quell Varian's white-hot rage, and if anything, his anger only seemed to grow the longer he stared down at the body crumpled at his feet. A quiet rumbling in his chest rapidly swelled into a wordless roar, and Broll and Shaw were left with nothing to more to do but to watch on helplessly as Varian threw back his head and howled his fury long into the night.


	16. Varian

Varian felt as if he were standing in place for hours, his posture rigid and his breathing heavy as he stared down at the dead man lying at his feet. The Defias leader's head was twisted at an impossible angle, and his once-handsome features were frozen in an expression of utmost surprise. He looked smaller in death, the fight having quite literally been knocked out of him by Varian's brutal beating, and not at all like the arrogant, deadly threat he had appeared to be only moments ago.

"Varian?"

He glanced to the side, and saw Broll staring worriedly back at him. Curiously, there was no hint of censure or surprise in the archdruid's gaze, only a sense of cool understanding – and what Varian thought might have been pity.

"Killing him was stupid," Varian muttered darkly, distractedly prodding the dead man with his foot.

His voice sounded strange in his ears, as if he were hearing himself from very far away, and his chest felt uncomfortably tight. He found it hard to gather his thoughts over the violent pounding of his heart, and his fingers twitched urgently as if spoiling for another battle.

"Yes, it was," Broll remarked lightly, his long eyebrows twitching as he folded his arms across his chest.

Varian snorted derisively at Broll's somewhat insulting candour, and he scowled to himself as he turned away to inspect the Defias leader's command table. A wide assortment of plans and maps were scattered haphazardly across dark wood, many documents seemingly written in a strange, coded language that Varian did not recognise. What he  _did_ recognise, however, was a map of the entrances to Stormwind Keep, and he was forced to bite back a fresh surge of anger as he imagined assassins sneaking into his home to murder his son and the woman he loved.

"Would you rather me deny it?" Broll asked archly. "I've never lied to you before, old friend, I certainly don't intend to start now."

"Would you not have done the same, had it been your family? Your  _daughter_?" Varian countered, though of course he knew Broll was right.

He had acted rashly, and in anger, and in doing so he had lost the best lead they had in unravelling the mystery of the assassins.

"Probably," Broll admitted, his eyes clouding over at the mention of his lost child. "Doesn't make it any less stupid…"

"Hmph. Well, at least Shaw might be able to make some sense of this," Varian grunted, waving his hands over the dozens of documents arrayed before him.

"Yes," Broll agreed. "This, for example, looks familiar."

He had retrieved some sort of metal device from a nearby bookshelf, and held it out towards Varian. It was roughly constructed, but there was no mistaking its purpose. It was a bomb, and judging from the slapdash wiring and crude etching, one of goblin design.

"Unfortunately. Where is Shaw, anyway?" Varian asked, abruptly realising that the spymaster was no longer present.

"Did you not notice him leave? He went to find your lady love," Broll explained. "She was still off fighting when we entered the tower."

"Auriana…" Varian breathed, the lingering haze of his anger fading abruptly as he remembered why he had come to the Light-forsaken tower in the first place.

Without another word, he turned away from the dead Defias leader and flew down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He leapt over the corpses of half a dozen men on his way, noting the ferocity of the blows that had felled them. Two of the dead men had been cleaved nearly in two, though Varian could not remember striking with such fury. For him, the battle had been little more than a vague haze of blood and sweat and adrenaline, though judging from the aftermath he had done some considerable damage.

Outside, there were more bloody and dismembered corpses littering the ground, while the entire western side of the battlefield was blanketed in a fine layer of frost. The neat line of tents that had surrounded the mage tower had been thoroughly ruined, though a handful of cooking fires remained burning here and there. Varian looked around urgently for any sign of movement, and he let out a short, relieved sigh as he caught sight of Shaw and Auriana near a small pile of bodies to the south. Even at this distance, it was clear that they were standing awkwardly a few feet apart, though that was somewhat to be expected. Varian knew that Auriana held some animosity towards Shaw and his men for the intelligence failures that had plagued her command in Draenor, and he doubted that recent events had improved her opinion of his skills overly much.

As Varian drew closer, however, he realised that the distance between Shaw and Auriana was due to the unmoving body they held suspended between them. It appeared they had begun to mass the dead into a single place, and they heaved the corpse onto the pile as he approached. Surprisingly, there were at least a dozen men on the heap already, and Varian wondered how long he had been brooding in the tower before Broll had interrupted his dark reverie.

Varian broke into a run, quickly covering the last few dozen yards that kept him from Auriana, and slid to a stop at her side. Her breath caught ever so slightly as she glanced up at him, and he abruptly realised that she had been just as concerned with his safety as he had been with hers.

"Are you alright?" he asked seriously, his eyes raking critically over Auriana's body from top to toe.

Her hair was wild, and she was sweating lightly from the effort of carrying so many dead, but aside from that she seemed surprisingly unharmed.

"Not a scratch on me," she said brightly, though Varian could not bring himself to return her smile.

Now that his temper had cooled, it was plainer than ever how badly his failure to control his temper had cost them, and he turned away so that he needn't look her in the eye. He had no idea how to tell her that their best chance of unravelling the mystery of the assassins lay dead up in the tower, let alone that it was his fault.

"The area is clear, Your Majesty," Shaw said quietly, folding his arms formally behind his back as he watched Varian pace. "The Archmage and I had just begun to gather the bodies for burning."

"Good idea," Varian agreed. "The last thing Westfall needs is a pile of rotting corpses contaminating the area. Broll and I will assist."

He glanced back in the direction of the tower, where Broll was only just now catching up to their position. The archdruid had approached with considerably less urgency than Varian, though he, too, appeared relieved to see that Shaw and Auriana were both alive and in one piece.

"Broll… you're injured," Auriana exclaimed, her forehead creasing worriedly as she gestured down at one of his legs.

Varian followed her line of sight, and was surprised to see a thick, sluggish line of blood trickling down the druid's side. He dimly recalled a rogue slashing at Broll's flank when he had been fighting in bear form, but he had not realised that the blade had struck true. Most of the battle had been a wild, angry blur, and his stomach twisted guiltily at his lack of awareness of his friend's pain.

"It will take more than a sell-sword's blade to fell me," Broll said proudly. "You needn't concern yourself with a mere scratch, little mage."

"Still, we should get you back to Stormwind for healing," Auriana said urgently, her blue eyes wide as she stared down at his bloody leg.

"The wound will hold well enough for the time being," Broll said reassuringly, patting her gently on the shoulder as he moved off to assist Shaw with another body. "Come… our mission is not yet complete."

Even with Shaw, Broll, Auriana and Varian working together, however, it took nearly an hour to group the dozens of dead Defias rogues into a single pile, and Varian was sweating heavily by the time he dragged the last man into place. It was a necessary task, of course, but he felt not a single ounce of pity for the dead as Auriana set the pyre ablaze with a quick flick of her wrist. The fire burned quick and hot, and within mere minutes a monstrous bonfire towered high into the dark sky.

 _A better end than they deserve,_ Varian thought grimly, never blinking as he stared broodingly into the dancing flames.

"We need to advise Marshal Stoutmantle of tonight's events… I don't want him fretting over the giant fire we've constructed in his backyard," he said finally, his voice clipped.

"I can brief the Marshal," Shaw offered. "After I secure the intelligence up in that tower. I will gather what I can, then return to Sentinel Hill. I'm sure Stoutmantle would be willing to loan me a gryphon for the trip back to Stormwind."

"Are you sure? I can assist, if necessary…" Varian suggested, though he did not really want to stay in Westfall a moment longer.

"We rogues are used to working alone, Your Majesty," Shaw said confidently, his sharp eyes a little too knowing. "In any case, you are needed elsewhere. The Archdruid needs healing, and your lady should be returned to the safety of the Keep."

Auriana snorted loudly, looking somewhat affronted that the spymaster thought her so delicate, but she made no comment as she turned away to open a portal back to Stormwind.

"Very well," Varian agreed. "No specifics, mind… all he really needs to know is that SI:7 were out in southern Westfall this evening. Apologise for not informing him of the operation beforehand, and have him send a few patrols through the area over the next few weeks. I know he's shorthanded, but I don't want any stragglers using this place as a base."

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Shaw said, inclining his head respectfully before he loped back off towards the mage tower.

Varian watched the rogue closely until he disappeared from view, then ushered Broll and Auriana ahead of him through the portal. Fortunately, Auriana was well practiced in opening portals directly to the Keep, and they arrived right in the middle of Varian's study with a blinding flash of light. He was in no mood to face the curious stares of servants and guards, and he was grateful that she had seen fit to return them home in privacy.

Despite his desire to be left alone, however, Varian called immediately for two of his personal elites to escort Broll to a healer. Broll had offered his services freely, of course, but Varian still felt badly that his old friend had been injured on his request. The Archdruid had fought bravely and well, and Varian was determined to see that he was looked after by the best that Stormwind could provide. For his part, Broll seemed somewhat amused by Varian's fussiness, though he nevertheless allowed himself to be led away for treatment.

Varian managed to maintain some level of composure in front of his elites, though he stomped off for his bedroom the moment as he was sure that Broll would be suitably cared for. His bloodied leathers had grown increasingly uncomfortable as the night wore on, and he was eager to rid himself of the evidence of the night's work as soon as possible. He stowed Shalamayne with the utmost care, of course, though he treated his gloves, belt and jerkin with considerably less reverence. He could see Auriana watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye as he undressed, but she did not say a word as he finally tore off his boots and stalked out onto his balcony to get some fresh air.

As if in testament to Varian's foul mood, the chill night air had grown even more biting, and he let out a long sigh as he leaned up against the balustrade and gazed out across his beloved city. As was usual for this time of night, both Old Town and the Dwarven District were alive with light and noise, but even the sight of Stormwind's prosperity did little to bring him comfort. The moment of the Defias leader's death played over and over in his head, consuming his thoughts so thoroughly that he almost failed to notice when Auriana came to stand wordlessly by side.

In any ordinary circumstance, Varian might have found Auriana's mere presence soothing, but tonight her being there simply made him more agitated. It had been a long time since he had let his anger get so completely out of control, and he was ashamed to have done so at such a critical moment.

"What happened here?" she said softly, finally breaking the silence as she reached out to take one of his large hands in her own.

Varian looked down, and was surprised to see that his knuckles were raw and bleeding. His gloves had been thin leather, unpadded, and it seemed that he had thrashed the Defias leader hard enough as to break his own skin.

"I hit a man," Varian replied gruffly, though he did not pull away from her cool touch as she gently ran her thumb along the outside of his hand. "Repeatedly."

"Was this man made of stone?" Auriana remarked, frowning up at him. "Do you want me to call Anduin?"

"No healers," Varian snapped. "Anduin or otherwise."

"At least let  _me_  clean your wounds, then," Auriana offered.

She turned to head back inside, but Varian reached out to snag her arm and pulled her up so short that she stumbled.

"Don't," he said warningly, towering over her with a fierce scowl.

The air was suddenly thick with a seething, uneasy tension, and a very strange expression crossed Auriana's face.

"Varian… what's wrong?" she asked patiently. "And don't tell me that there's nothing bothering you, you wouldn't have laid a hand on me otherwise."

Her eyes flicked pointedly to where his long fingers wrapped around her slender wrist, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Auri… I… I'm sorry," he said roughly, instantly releasing her from his iron grip and rubbing a tired hand over his eyes. "You know I…"

"I don't need an apology," she said coolly. "I need you to be honest with me. Did something happen in that tower?"

"We cornered the Defias leader. I had him unarmed… at my mercy… and I killed him," he confessed bitterly. "I snapped his neck."

"Is that… unusual? We were there to kill Defias, after all," she said, looking nonplussed.

"He was their leader. We could have used him for information," Varian pointed out. "He took advantage of my love for you. He meant to stir my anger, and I fell for it like a damn fool."

"He wanted to die?" Auriana wondered. "He had to have known that baiting you into a rage would not end well for him."

"I suppose," Varian said slowly, having not considered the man's actions in such a light. "He certainly intended to provoke me… and I was more than happy to oblige."

"Well… he's dead, now," she said practically. "They're all dead. I'm safe."

"Are you? What if there's more of them out there?" Varian muttered, drumming his fingers on the balcony rail in irritation. "There were bombs in that room… he may have been planning more attacks. And now, thanks to me… we may never know."

"Are you trying to frighten me?" Auriana asked.

She looked rather confused by his consternation, and it was clear that she didn't really understand why he was so vexed. Even Varian himself would have found it difficult to explain, though he suspected it had something to do with a pervading sense of being used. He had been on the back foot of the issue since the beginning, only to throw away perhaps his only chance of getting on the offensive.

"Of course not," he growled, though privately he felt a bit of fright might be good for her.

Despite being the target of several assassination attempts over the past few months, she seemed remarkably unfazed. Doubtless it had something to do with the incredible amount of power she could summon on a mere whim, but she was certainly not as unkillable as she apparently believed herself to be.

"You weren't wrong to be angry," Auriana reminded him quietly. "You're only human, Varian..."

"I'm a king!" he snapped, turning roughly away from her. "I need to be better than human."

Varian regretted the harsh words the moment they had left his mouth. He heard Auriana sigh in frustration, and cursed silently under his breath as she turned on her heel and swept back inside. He had not meant to take his frustrations out on her, of course, but it was growing more and more difficult to contain his pent-up anger. He  _had_  thought that killing the Defias would ease his worries, but if anything, the night's events had left him strangely unsatisfied. There were still so many questions left unanswered, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they had only begun to scratch the surface of the real problem.

Several long minutes passed as Varian stared broodingly out over his city, when a sudden soft sound caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder, and was surprised to see that Auriana had returned, and was standing silently behind him with two stools and a shallow basin of water balanced precariously between her hands. Her expression was calm and composed as she placed one stool at his side, with the second about a foot apart. She took a seat, resting the basin carefully on her lap, and she nodded for him to sit.

Despite his reservations, Varian reluctantly complied, and he grimaced as Auriana pulled a clean cloth from the pocket of her robes, and wordlessly began to tend to his battered knuckles. He hated to see his own churlishness rewarded by such tenderness, but Auriana was quietly persistent, and with time Varian found himself gradually relaxing under the power of her calm, soothing touch.

"I know you hate it when I get protective," he said quietly.

"That's not true," Auriana retorted, though she remained steadfastly focused on tending to his hands.

"No?"

"You have a lion's heart, Varian. Your instinct to protect those around you is one of your best qualities," she murmured, cleaning the blood and dirt from his wounds with an odd sort of reverence. "What I  _don't_  like is when you keep secrets from me, or when you try to cloister me."

Auriana glanced up at him for the briefest of seconds, her expression unreadable, though the deep furrow in her brow lessened slightly as she continued to speak.

"You know as well as I do that we're at our best when we're fighting together," she said firmly. "I belong at your side…  _especially_  on a battlefield."

Varian nodded in agreement, though he deep down he doubted that he would ever entirely silence the voice in the back of his mind that screamed at him to keep her hidden away under lock and key. Nevertheless, Auriana's courage and her fighting spirit were two of the things that he found most attractive about her, and he knew that he could not continuously stifle precisely what it was that made her so special.

"This is how we met, do you remember? Or rather… how we had our first real conversation," he realised, as she made another pass at his tortured hands. "You ministered to me in that cave in Tanaan."

"Of course I remember," Auriana replied softly. "I'm certainly not going to forget the sound your shoulder made as I popped it back in its socket, in any case."

She didn't look up, but Varian thought he saw the barest ghost of a smile flicker across her pale features.

"You're still good at it," he praised her. "First aid, I mean."

"Cleaning a wound is hardly difficult," she said, shrugging slightly. "And when you fight as often as I have over the last decade, you pick up a few tricks."

She looked up briefly as she finished tending to his left hand, before pulling his far-worse right hand onto her lap to begin the process anew.

"Did you have any idea, back then?" Varian wondered. "When we were in the cave, I mean."

It was something he had pondered many times in the past, though it was not a question he had ever really put directly to her. Certainly, he had  _never_  imagined that a chance meeting in the wilds of Draenor would grow into something so much more, but he was curious to know if she had seen something that he hadn't.

"What you and I would become? Not at all," Auriana said blithely. "In fact, if I recall correctly, I spent most of our first night together wondering if I should leave you to die…"

"You wouldn't have left me there; your sense of duty is too strong," Varian said confidently. "You would have protected your King, even to your dying breath. Hell, you nearly did."

Even now, Varian could still remember the exact sound of Auriana's anguished scream as her thighbone had been shattered by the hammer of a savage orc, and he thanked the Light every day that she had not met her end on the damp floor of Tanaan Jungle.

"I suppose you're right," she agreed, shivering slightly in memory. "Still… I  _hated_  you. And I doubt you thought much of me, either."

"Not true. I thought you were sad," Varian admitted, "But pretty, at least when you weren't scowling."

Auriana's hands stilled, and she looked up at him with a wary, inquisitive expression.

"You did not think I was pretty…" she said doubtfully.

"I did, actually," Varian said truthfully. "I watched you bathe, remember."

"Varian…" she scowled seriously, "We were a thousand miles away from civilisation, trapped in a cave with no way out, surrounded on all sides by the Iron Horde… Do you honestly expect me to believe that you were concerned with my pretty face?"

"It was my shoulder that was hurt, not my eyes," he countered. "No matter the situation, I am still a red-blooded man, and  _you_ are a beautiful woman… particularly in the moonlight…"

Auriana snorted disbelievingly as she resumed cleaning his hands, though she could not hide the light blush had risen in her cheeks, nor the small smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth. She wasn't at all vain, nor the type of person who needed many compliments to feel happy, but Varian supposed that any woman enjoyed being called beautiful.

"I'm still not quite sure what changed for you," he added, stretching out his legs slightly. "You weren't exactly shy about how much you disliked me."

"I stopped looking at you through a cloud of rage, I suppose," Auriana said thoughtfully. "I saw you for what you really were."

"Oh? And what am I?" Varian asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

He leaned forward and carefully lifted the basin from her lap, placing it gently on the balcony floor before reaching out to brush a strand of hair back from her face. She really  _was_  at her most beautiful in the moonlight, and Varian was almost overwhelmed by the sudden urge to hold her close. Talking with her had done much to help dull the edge of his anger, and he almost began to feel normal again as he stared deep into her eyes.

"You are… a commander I am proud to serve," she said carefully, considering each word before she spoke. "A King I would gladly die for… and a man I love more than I would have ever thought possible."

Even after all this time, she rarely put her feelings into concrete words - though, Varian conceded, he was little better. They were neither of them poets or wordsmiths, preferring instead to show their love through thought and deed. Varian could perhaps count on one hand the amount of times Auriana had expressly said that she loved him, and each time had been indescribably precious.

"I'm sorry you've suffered for my temper of late," he told her, dragging her stool towards him so that he might rest his forehead against her own.

"You needn't apologise. Really," she assured him. "I know these last few months have been trying for you..."

"For  _me_?" he muttered disbelievingly. "I'm not the one who was poisoned, shot, and blown up…"

"Come now, Varian, you have been a warrior long enough to know that risking your own life is not half as frightening as watching the people you love risk theirs," Auriana murmured, resting her hands against his forearms and grasping them tightly. "And if anyone in the world understands your anger… it's me."

"What does it feel like for you?" he asked. "Your fury, I mean."

He had plenty of experience with anger, both in battle and otherwise, but unlike Auriana, he was not a true berserk. Even tonight, when he had given into his dark, violent impulses, he had still at heart remained himself, and he was admittedly curious to know what it felt like to surrender utterly.

"Do you know, I've never really tried to put it into words," she mused. "I suppose… it feels like a constant, smouldering fire burning in the pit of my stomach. It's locked behind a door, but it spends every second of every day trying to get out."

"It must be tiring," Varian said sympathetically.

"It's gotten easier, over the years, with time, training, and understanding," Auriana said dismissively, as if it were only that simple. "My rage may open the door… but I can certainly close it. Using frost magic helps, too."

She pulled away from Varian slightly, and turned her head to the right so that she might stare out over the bright lights of the city below. She did not seem bothered by his line of questioning, however, and for some reason seemed more willing to discuss the topic than she ever had in the past.

"It's funny, you know, I had always convinced myself that I was weaker with fire, though it isn't really true," she said, snorting ruefully. "Even before the incident with Deathwing, I gravitated towards the precision and sense of control that frost provided. Of course, after I went berserk for the first time, I avoided using fire magic almost at all costs… though that's obviously not the case anymore."

"From what I've seen, though, you still seem to prefer your frost magic," Varian said. "Take tonight, for example. That was some blizzard."

"Force of habit, I suppose," she said, smiling at his praise. "I'm not as wary of using fire as I once was, though I'll always tend to associate fire with my rage. Frost is safer, though my potential with fire is far greater."

"You mentioned once that you weren't yet at your full potential," he noted, thinking back to one of the rare occasions when they had discussed her magic in depth.

"Magic isn't like physical fitness in that you're at your peak when you're younger. Present company excluded, of course," Auriana said slyly. "There's a reason most Archmagi are older - it takes time to develop the skills necessary to fully embrace your potential without hurting yourself or burning out. I won't really start to hit my peak for about another ten years or so, I'd imagine. Assuming I don't get myself killed, first, I suppose."

She had spoken casually enough, but the mere mention of her death was enough to set Varian's teeth on edge once more. All the work she had done to help him relax was undone in an instant, and he found himself once again fighting back the urge to simply kill everyone who might do her harm and have done with it.

"Don't say things like that," he snapped bitterly. "It isn't funny."

"Sorry," she murmured softly, as she carefully folded her hands in her lap. "I didn't think."

Varian grunted by way of reply, and an uncomfortable silence swelled between them once more. Auriana's expression was carefully neutral, though Varian knew her well enough to know when she was biting her tongue. Still,  _she_  at least seemed capable of holding her temper in check, even if he could not, and she simply stared at him with soft eyes as he struggled to contain his darker thoughts.

"We should get inside, you're starting to shiver," he muttered finally, gesturing towards his chambers. "Are you hungry?"

It was an awkward, barely adequate attempt at an apology, and he knew that Auriana would have been well within her rights to refuse to dine with him. In truth, he would not have been surprised if she had outright refused to share his company at  _all_  for the rest of the evening, let alone his bed, but instead she merely nodded.

"Starving," she confirmed lightly, as if nothing had happened. "I used an awful lot of magic out there."

"I'll have something sent up, then," Varian said gruffly, rising to his feet as he spoke. "Leave the stools, we can collect them in the morning."

He took a bold step towards Auriana as he stood, sliding his hand gently to the small of her back so that he might help her back inside. She hardly needed to be shown the way, of course, but it was his small way of asking her forgiveness, and thankfully, she did not resist. If anything, Varian thought she might have leaned into him slightly as he guided her back into the warmth of his chambers, and he let out a short sigh of relief.

 _She's more than you deserve,_  he reminded himself sternly.

"Just let me draw a bath first," she said brightly. "I smell… well, I smell less than pleasant, I'm sure."

"You always smell wonderful," he told her truthfully. "Though you are most welcome to bathe, of course."

He paused briefly to close and bolt the balcony door behind him, and when he turned around again Auriana had already begun to eagerly slip the laces of her robes. It was no secret that she loved to soak in Varian's enormous tub, and he certainly had no intention of denying her request; not least after she had been so patient with him all evening.

"You know…" she added tentatively, peering up at him shyly from beneath dark lashes. "You could always join me…"

Varian lifted an eyebrow in surprise at her offer, though there was no denying how much he suddenly craved the simple comforts of hot water and the touch of his woman.

"Auriana…" he started warily. "I…"

"It's been a long night," Auriana interrupted him gently. "At the end of several long weeks. I think it would do us both some good to start putting this whole mess behind us. Don't you agree?"

She slid her robes from her shoulders with a soft, inviting smile, and Varian's mouth went dry as he drank in the sight of her. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, of course, but he instead hesitated, not quite able to believe that she would come to him so willingly. He coughed, clearing his throat as he made to speak, but Auriana cut him off for a second time with a small shake of her head.

"I'm sure, Varian," she insisted quietly, extending a small hand towards him in answer to his unspoken question. "In fact, my King… I insist…"


	17. Varian

Life gradually returned to normal after the night-time raid on the Defias camp – or as normal as life ever was on Azeroth. Although Varian, Shaw and SI:7 were on high alert, no more attacks against either Auriana or Anduin were made. A full month came and went without incident, then another, and over time even Varian came to believe that the looming threat had passed. He would never fully relax when it came to the safety of his son and his consort, of course, but in the absence of any further bombs or assassins, the Keep slowly fell back into to its regular routine.

To Varian's immense pleasure, Broll had continued to split his time between Stormwind and Darnassus, returning to the Keep whenever his work with the Cenarion Circle would allow. The Archdruid had also taken it upon himself to shado Auriana like a bodyguard whenever he was in the city, for which Varian was very grateful. His duties as King made it impossible for him to see to her as often as he would have liked, and it eased his mind to know that she was safe under the watchful eye of his closest friend. Of course, Varian strongly suspected that Auriana found Broll's protectiveness rather tedious, as she did his own, but she never said a word; instead tolerating the druid's presence with a good-natured exasperation. It likely helped that she and Broll had developed a fast friendship, sharing as they did the responsibility of being two paragons of their respective magical fields.

Varian had also allowed Auriana to return to her work for the Kirin Tor, albeit a tad reluctantly. Although she had complied with his impassioned request to abstain from leaving on missions until her would-be assassins had been caught, it was clear that doing so had made her unhappy, and she had been elated when he had finally suggested that she might resume her duties. Varian still felt his heart skip a beat every time she returned home later than expected, but he knew he could not keep her locked away in his chambers forever. She had blossomed into her role as Archmage more than Varian could have hoped, and he certainly had no desire to deny her something that brought her so much joy, no matter how much anxiety it may have caused  _him._

Fortunately, Varian's fears continually proved to be unfounded, and as the days and weeks went peacefully by, his thoughts once again turned to wedding Auriana. He  _was_  glad that he had not simply blurted a proposal at her in the heat of the moment in Elwynn Forest, but the longer the threat of the assassins seemed past, the more his desire to ask her grew. To that end, he had even gone so far as to procure a suitable ring, and it had burned a hole in his pocket for more than a week before he finally decided enough was enough.

As luck would have it, however, Auriana had been called away to Dalaran the night he had intended to propose, and had been gone now for nearly four days. She hadn't known of his plans, naturally, though Varian had still found her sudden absence decidedly irritating. Romance was not something that came easily to him, and it had taken him more time than he would have expected to work up the courage to finally ask her. As bizarre as it seemed, he would have found it easier to fight a hundred orcs with his bare hands, than to face the possibility of Auriana's rejection, and more than once he had found swearing over a piece of parchment in his study as he attempted to find the right words.

Fortunately, it seemed as if he would be out of his misery sooner rather than later, as he finally received word from Dalaran that Auriana would return to Stormwind late one midweek afternoon. In anticipation, he had asked his chamberlain to clear his schedule for the day, but after spending the morning brooding all alone upon his throne, he had rather come to regret the decision. Every minute that he waited for confirmation of Auriana's return seemed interminably long, and he wished he had thought to give himself a means to occupy his thoughts.

Instead, he found himself idly tracing the curved mane of the carved lions at the base of his throne and staring off into the distance as he silently rehearsed his speech in his head. In fact, he was so focused on his silent mantra that he almost failed to notice when as his own son approached the throne and waved a hand right in front his face.

"Father? Hello?  _Hello_?" the golden-haired prince drawled, his tone light and almost playful. "Are you still in there?"

Varian glanced up, raising a sardonic eyebrow, and Anduin grinned.

"Ah! You  _are_  alive," he said warmly, casually taking a seat on the steps leading up to the royal dais. "Broll owes me a gold coin."

"You've been making bets with Broll?" Varian wondered.

"Well, you've been acting very strangely of late," Anduin said, his eyes glinting mischievously. " _He_ suggested you had been turned into a zombie. I put my money on mind control."

"I assure you, I am not a zombie," Varian growled. "And my mind is still my own."

"Still… something is  _clearly_  bothering you," Anduin insisted, his expression growing more serious. "Please don't insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise."

His gaze was calm, level, and filled with the kind of earnest sincerity that Varian found hard to refuse. Varian naturally tended to play things very close to the chest, though he had always found it hard to hide his true self from Anduin.

"Guardsmen," he sighed, waving a hand. "Leave us."

The dozen guards standing watch immediately snapped to attention and quickly filed out, closing the heavy wooden doors that ringed the throne room behind them. They would not go far, and would be ready to return at a moment's notice should Varian call, but for now, at least, he and Anduin would have privacy.

"This isn't about those assassins, is it?" Anduin asked, the moment the last guard had disappeared. "It's been three months since the bombing, and there have been no further incidents. Shaw hasn't heard even a whisper of danger since you razed that Defias camp."

"Hanging around SI:7, were you?"

"Well,  _you_  wouldn't tell me what happened that night," Anduin said, the slightest hint of reproach entering his voice. "Besides, I'm going to be king one day. I should have at least  _some_ understanding of our intelligence service, should I not?"

Varian snorted noncommittally, though secretly he was proud to see that Anduin had taken the initiative. He had slowly begun to give Anduin more responsibility in the running of the kingdom, though he could not resist the urge to spare the boy from the darker realities of ruling.

 _Not that I can really continue to see him as a 'boy',_ Varian thought.

"What will it take to get you to talk to me?" Anduin sighed. "I could spar with you, if you liked?"

"You hate sparring," Varian remarked suspiciously. "Especially with me."

"I do," Anduin admitted sheepishly, "But if it gets you off that throne…"

"I'm a king. Kings sit on thrones," Varian said idly.

"Forget sitting, you've practically been living there since Auriana left for Dalaran," Anduin observed shrewdly. "If it isn't the assassins, then what? I know I was joking before, but… is it something to do with your health? Or hers? Please tell me you aren't…"

"It will be many years before you have to sit on this throne, don't you worry," Varian interrupted drily. "I'm not dying, son, stop being morbid."

He let out a long sigh, and beckoned Anduin closer to the throne. Curious, the Prince of Stormwind watch closely as Varian dug into the pockets of his finely pressed tunic, and he let out a small gasp as Varian withdrew a small, shining ring and held it out towards him.

"I… well, I'm flattered, Father, but I'm  _fairly_  sure that a marriage between father and son is illegal," Anduin said finally, taking the ring and turning it over between his fingers.

"Not  _you_ ," Varian grunted irritably. "Auriana."

" _Oh_ …" Anduin said, as if the idea had only just occurred to him. " _Auriana_. That makes a lot more sense."

"Very funny," Varian growled.

"Sorry," Anduin said sincerely, though his playful grin strongly suggested that he felt less than remorseful.

"Do… do you approve?" Varian asked stiffly.

He  _was_  confident in Anduin's affection for Auriana, though he wondered if a proposal might change his son's feelings. The difference between a consort and a wife was considerable, and he certainly did not want Anduin to feel as if his mother were being replaced.

"Do you need my approval?" Anduin asked slowly.

"No. I don't," Varian said quietly, "Though I would like your blessing."

"Well, you have it, no question," Anduin said eagerly. "Honestly, I was wondering what was taking you so long. I thought you would have asked her when she returned from Draenor and kissed you in front of the entire city."

He eyed Varian thoughtfully, and a sudden flash of realisation crossed his face.

"Wait a minute… you aren't  _nervous_ , are you?"

"No," Varian lied, answering a shade too quickly to have been entirely convincing.

Anduin hid a smirk behind his hand, though for once it seemed he thought better of teasing his father any further.

"Silly me. Of course you aren't," he murmured. "When are you going to ask her?"

"As you know, she's been in Dalaran for the last few days," Varian said. "She is expected to return this afternoon. I'll ask her then."

"Well, it's a lovely day for it," Anduin agreed, rising to his feet.

He handed the ring back to Varian, who tucked it carefully back into his pocket. The trinket had been resized just for Auriana, and it was so tiny that Varian frequently feared it would be lost.

"Good luck," Anduin smiled, clapping his father warmly on the shoulder. "Not that I think you'll need it."

"No?"

"She loves you, Father," the prince said confidently. "More than anything… and probably a great deal more than you deserve."

He winked slyly, and Varian couldn't help but to let out a short, dry chuckle. Anduin was a light-hearted soul, far more so than Varian himself, and his bright presence never failed to bring Varian comfort. It was also reassuring to know that Anduin was not only supportive of his plans, but  _happy_ , and Varian felt as if a great weight were lifted from his shoulders as his son smiled knowingly, and quietly took his leave.

Varian did not bother to recall the guards after Anduin had left, instead enjoying the rare opportunity to sit on his throne alone. He had never felt particularly comfortable in the room, not least because he did not ever want to be the kind of king who grew fat and idle on his throne while better men bore the real burden of running the kingdom. The throne room was also where his father had been murdered, and it always felt to Varian as if it would never quite be rid of Llane's ghost. Still, it was as good a place as any to think, and Varian brooded long into the afternoon before he finally rose and made his way back upstairs to his apartments.

He was not sure exactly when Auriana intended to return, but was surprised and pleased to hear quiet sounds of movement coming from his bedchamber as he approached. There would be no servants in attendance at this hour, and Auriana was the only other person who could have entered the room without leave from his guards.

"Auri? Is that you?"

"In here," she called back, her voice light and cheery.

Although there had been no further attempts on Auriana's life since the night of the Defias raid, Varian still felt an odd surge of adrenaline every time she was out of his sight, and it was always a great relief whenever she returned safely home from Dalaran. He inadvertently quickened his pace as he rounded the corner into his room, and smiled to himself as he found her leaning over her trunk, a few loose strands of hair falling down into her eyes.

"Welcome home," he said warmly, leaning his long frame up against the doorway and folding his arms across his chest.

Auriana looked up from her unpacking, and gave him a bright, genuine smile. She looked as lovely as ever, though there were dark circles under her eyes, and a slight but distinct weariness to her movements.

"You look nice," she remarked, nodding towards his neat, formal tunic. "There isn't a dinner tonight that I've forgotten about, is there?"

"No," Varian assured her. "I just… grabbed the first thing I saw."

In truth, he  _had_  made an unusual effort with his appearance, though he wasn't ready to let her know why just yet.

"How was Dalaran?" he asked, quickly changing the topic. "I wasn't expecting you to be gone for so long."

"Neither did I. It was… frustrating," Auriana admitted, brushing her hair back from her face. "As you know, Khadgar has been searching for any sign of Gul'Dan in the Twisting Nether, and thus far he has had little success."

She sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed, bending down to slowly unlace her boots.

"You said that Gul'Dan could to return to Azeroth at any time," Varian recalled. "Without warning."

"That's our concern, what with time in the Nether being the way it is," Auriana said, nodding. "Khadgar and I attempted a number of rituals to scry Gul'Dan out, but…"

"No luck?"

"I'm not used to having my magic fail," she muttered, glancing briefly at him over her shoulder. "Khadgar is practically obsessed, but even with the new spells he devised… we found nothing."

Auriana shook her head in a gesture of clear disappointment, and pinched the bridge of her nose in weary irritation. In many ways, she was a perfectionist, and Varian knew how much such a problem would vex her.

"You and Khadgar are two of the most talented mages I've ever met," he said confidently. "You'll figure it out."

"Jaina doesn't share your optimism. She is concerned that we're unprepared to face an all-out Legion assault… and she's probably right," Auriana continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "She put a motion to the Council to increase militarisation of the Kirin Tor – and they agreed."

Varian raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised, and stood up straighter. Jaina had undoubtedly been more aggressive since the destruction of Theramore, but he had believed that her naturally peaceful temperament would return with time and patience. She had been willing enough to commit Kirin Tor forces to the combined assault on Draenor, if not precisely  _happy_ , but he now wondered if she had developed a desire to use Dalaran to strike against the Horde.

"Are you sure the Legion is the whole reason?" he asked Auriana sharply. "Do you really believe she has forgiven the Horde for Theramore?"

"No, I don't… and I'm not entirely sure she should," she admitted, as she slipped off her boots. "But I  _do_  think her focus is on the Legion, at least for now. She's been improving Dalaran's defenses, teaching the apprentices how to best counter warlocks…"

"And that's why she wanted you," Varian realised.

"Yes. I'm an Alliance commander. I'm not just trained in magic, I'm trained in war," she elaborated.

Auriana stood up, turning to face Varian with an apologetic shrug.

"It means I may have to return to Dalaran more often…"

"I'd miss you," he murmured, stepping forward to take her face in his hands.

If he had his way, he would spend every waking minute with Auriana by his side - if only such a thing were possible. More than once, he had considered running away with her to somewhere wild and isolated, where he could spend the rest of his life hunting game by day and making love to Auriana by night. But he was a King and she an Archmage, and they both shared a profound, unshakeable sense of duty. In Auriana's case, she was truly extraordinary, and as tempting as it was, Varian knew it would be unbelievably selfish of him to deny Azeroth her gifts.

"I'd miss you, too," she said, leaning ever so slightly into his touch. "But I believe in the work I'm doing. A strong Dalaran benefits everyone."

"I agree," Varian said reluctantly. "I also think someone needs to keep an eye on Jaina."

"You know Khadgar would come to you immediately if he thought she were a threat," Auriana said firmly. "He believes in a united Azeroth, he wouldn't allow her to turn Dalaran against the Horde."

"I know. Though I must say, I trust your analysis of Jaina's behaviour far more," Varian mused. "You understand how she feels better than almost anyone."

Auriana frowned slightly but said nothing, instead choosing to rest her head against Varian's chest with a soft sigh. He happily cradled her close, his hands sliding down to her waist as he run a series of soft kisses down the side of her neck. The news from Dalaran was somewhat concerning, but right now the Kirin Tor was the last thing on his mind.

"You don't have to return right now, do you?" he murmured.

"No, of course not," she said, smiling. "Tonight, I'm all yours."

She stood up on her tip toes, pulling him down for a soft, lingering kiss, and Varian's resolve strengthened tenfold.

"In that case… would you… would you care to take a walk?" he asked, his throat suddenly dry.

"I was actually hoping to freshen up before dinner…" Auriana said blithely, gesturing nonchalantly towards the bathchamber.

"No!" Varian said quickly.

Auriana smiled, as if he were joking, but her expression soon changed to one of confusion and mild alarm.

"Ah… alright," she said slowly. "I wasn't aware you were so opposed to my cleanliness."

"I'm not," he grumbled, inwardly cursing at himself. "I simply wanted to take a walk. It's nearly sundown, the light should be… pretty… in the gardens."

"You…  _Varian Wrynn_ …want to go look at the sunset?" Auriana said skeptically, stepping back from him to place her hand on her hips.

"Is that a problem?" he huffed indignantly, feeling the tips of his ears burn red.

"Not at all. I just… didn't realise you were so…" she said, trailing off as she struggled to find the right word.

"What, just because I'm a king, a gladiator and a warrior, I can't enjoy a nice sunset?" Varian asked archly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I didn't think you were so judgemental, Auriana."

"I'm not judging! Enjoy all the sunsets you like," she protested, raising her hands defensively. "Though may I at least change out of my Kirin Tor robes? I've been wearing these all day."

"As you wish," Varian said quickly. "You don't need my permission."

Auriana's eyes narrowed, and she looked as if she weren't sure whether to smile or call for a healer. In spite of her concerns, however, she turned and slowly made her way into his wardrobe to change.

 _Where's an arranged marriage when you need one?_ Varian sighed inwardly, slowly pacing back and forth as he waited for her to finish.  _Maybe I should get Anduin to ask her, he's good with words…_

As odd as it seemed, he felt more keyed up  _now_ than he ever had in the heat of battle or in the Crimson Ring, and it felt as if Auriana were taking an inordinate amount of time getting dressed. In truth, she was probably only gone a few minutes, but Varian was just about ready to burst by the time she reappeared, tying off the top of her low-cut bodice as she walked. She had also let her hair down, and to Varian's heated gaze she could not have looked lovelier.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

Varian offered Auriana his arm with a gallant flourish, and she blushed prettily as she took her place at his side. She still appeared rather confused, but she nevertheless linked her arm through his without argument, and together they walked down through the throne room and out towards the Keep garden.

Neither said a word until they arrived, each lost in their own thoughts, when Auriana abruptly came to a stop and looked around with a wary expression.

"Where are all the guards?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Varian asked, playing dumb.

He had commanded the afternoon watch to pull back so that he might have some privacy, and in truth he had rather hoped Auriana wouldn't notice. It had been something of a futile desire, given how sharp and observant she was, and he did his best to appear unconcerned.

"The Keep has been crawling with guards and extra patrols for months, and suddenly it's like a ghost town in here," she pressed him suspiciously. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No," Varian lied. "I'm sure they're somewhere around, you needn't worry…"

He tugged gently but urgently on her arm, and lead her around to the open area of the garden that looked directly out over the lake. As he had hoped, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and the last dying rays of light set the rippling water of the lake ablaze. A gentle breeze sent the loose tendrils of Auriana's hair fluttering around her face, and her eyes sparkled impossibly bright as he grasped her carefully by the waist and manoeuvred her into the perfect position.

"There," he said finally, letting out a long, shaky sigh.

"Here?" Auriana asked, nonplussed.

"That's exactly where you were standing when I kissed you for the first time," he reminded her.

"Winter's Veil…" she recalled, biting her lower lip invitingly. "You know, I always wondered why you kissed me that night, of all nights. We'd been alone together many times before. You had better opportunities… or at least more private ones."

"I suppose… I didn't know I  _wanted_  to kiss you until that night," Varian said thoughtfully.

"What changed?" she asked, tilting her head to the side as she stared up at him.

"I'm not sure. It certainly wasn't planned…" he admitted, "But seeing you standing there, in the moonlight... I don't know. Maybe it was the dress."

"The dress?"

"You looked incredible that night. I think maybe it was the first time I realised you were a woman," he murmured.

"Gee, thanks," Auriana snorted, rolling her eyes.

"You know what I mean…" Varian grumbled, shaking his head. "I'd forgotten how to even  _look_ at a woman after… after Tiffin died. Seeing you like that – looking so different, so  _beautiful_  – something fell into place, and I finally realised how much I had come to care for you."

"I see," Auriana replied thoughtfully, her expression giving nothing away.

"Though I would like to point out it wasn't all me," he continued. "I seem to recall that  _you_  kissed me back. Why?"

"You were warm," she said simply, shrugging.

Her wide-eyed gaze gave the impression of absolute sincerity, but the sly half smile pulling at the corner of her mouth made him strongly suspect that she was teasing.

"I think if I had an entire lifetime I'd never really understand you," Varian murmured, kissing her softly on the forehead. "You're an enigma, Auriana Fenwild."

She laughed at that, her nose crinkling as she broke into a wide grin, and she stepped away from him slightly so that she might fold her long skirts beneath her and take a seat on the sheer edge of the Keep. Varian joined her immediately, and they sat in companionable silence for several long moments as the magnificent golden sunlight flooded the green valley below.

"Why did your parents choose that name?" Varian asked finally, genuinely curious.

"Fenwild?"

It was not the name she had been born with, on either her father or her mother's side, and he had long wondered whether it held any kind of significance.

"It isn't a common Kul Tiran surname, or certainly not one I'm familiar with," he elaborated.

"Well, that's probably because it isn't real," Auriana said blithely, swinging her delicate feet back and forward like a playful child.

"What?"

"It isn't real. It's a made-up name," she explained, grinning. "Jamieson Fenwild was a character in a Kul Tiran campfire story. He was a legendary pirate king, and supposedly the greatest sailor that ever lived. Handsome, brave, irresistibly charming, you know the sort of thing…"

"Oh, of course," Varian said slyly. "He sounds like me."

Auriana laughed again, and punched him affectionately in the arm with an expression of mock exasperation.

"There is no definitive version of the story – ten different sailors would tell you ten different tales, though the basic plots are always very similar," she added. "He'd go on some sort of fantastic, impossible adventure, make snappy quips, and rescue some buxom wench who'd reward him with her womanly favours."

"Sounds like an interesting fellow," Varian mused.

"If you like that sort of thing. My father was an excellent storyteller, and he used to romance my mother with tales of Captain Fenwild's adventures," Auriana continued fondly. "As you know, when we left for Theramore my parents wanted to distance themselves from Lordaeron and my mother's family legacy. Father left it to her to choose a new name, and… well…"

"She named you after a pirate king?" Varian finished, trying not to smile.

"I think he always thought it a bit… ah…  _fanciful_ , to say the least… but he could never deny her anything," she concluded, grinning.

"So… you're a storybook character, then?" Varian surmised. "A figment of my imagination?"

"Varian, if you were going to imagine a woman, I think you could have done a better job," she snorted.

"I don't," he insisted firmly, placing a tender hand on the small of her back.

"You could have at  _least_  made me taller," she teased. "Really, a few inches wouldn't have killed you…"

"Perhaps," he agreed, feeling more relaxed than he had all day by means of their playful banter. "What about your first name, then? What does that mean?"

"Ah… I'm named after the founder of my House, actually – although I suppose it was little more than a tribe back then," she explained. "During the Troll Wars, she successfully defended her people from troll raiders where many others had failed. Her birth name is lost to history, though she took the name Auriana in honour of the victory. It means 'crowned in glory'."

"A brave woman," Varian said approvingly. "She sounds like you – or rather, you sound like her."

"I hope not. From all accounts she was a calculating, hard-hearted bitch. It probably didn't help that she did have a touch of the berserk," Auriana said thoughtfully. "Though I suppose she was what her people needed at the time. She eventually bent the knee to Thoradin and his Arathi, of course, though she leveraged her victory to obtain great status within his new kingdom. Her descendants later travelled north as part of the group of nobles who founded Lordaeron."

"You know your family history well," Varian praised her.

"Well, I heard it often enough from my grandfather," she said, scowling slightly. "I think my mother believed that naming me after such an esteemed ancestor would appease him somewhat, but he remained indifferent towards her as long as he was with my father."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"It hardly matters now. He warmed to me a little, I think, but for all intents and purposes, she was dead to him," she said flatly, staring out over the lake with a pensive expression.

The subject of her family was always touchy, Varian knew, though over time she had become much more willing to discuss her past.

"I'd no idea the founding of your House went back that far," he admitted. "Why did you never tell me?"

"You never asked," Auriana said simply, with her quintessential lack of guile. "Which makes me wonder – why are you so interested all of a sudden? And don't tell me that it's nothing, or a mere matter of curiosity… you've been acting strange all afternoon."

As she spoke, she turned away from the lake and fixed him with a sharp, steely eyed stare. She seemed more perplexed than annoyed, but it was clear that she was rapidly running out of patience for his admittedly erratic behaviour.

"I've been thinking a lot about family lately," he started slowly, his heart suddenly racing.

His palms had also begun to sweat, and he tried to wipe them off on his breeches as surreptitiously as possible.

"Varian… you're not sick, are you?" Auriana wondered, a dark cloud of worry passing over her face. "You… you'd tell me if you were…"

"Why does everyone always think I'm dying?" he exclaimed indignantly, the sudden volume of his voice making her jump. "I'm as healthy as a man half my age, thank you very much!"

"I know," she said placatingly. "It's just… you aren't normally this…"

"Thoughtful?" Varian supplied, raising an eyebrow sarcastically.

"I was going to say… 'reflective'…" she said sheepishly, looking away and fiddling idly with her skirts.

"Did you know I was named for my grandmother?" Varian asked, abruptly changing the topic.

"Er… no," Auriana said, her tone interested but still slightly confused. "I didn't, actually."

"My father's mother," Varian elaborated. "Her name was Varia."

Varian paused, and fumbled in his pocket for the beautiful ring. It was simple but exquisitely made, a shining thing of mithril filigree inlaid with sapphires and diamonds, but he thought it rather beautiful, and he that hoped Auriana would agree.

"This was her ring… a gift from my grandfather," he added, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he held it out towards her. "It was one of the few Wrynn family heirlooms we managed to get out of the city during the fall."

He cleared his throat, and the thundering of his heart in his ears became so loud that he almost couldn't hear himself speak.

"I'd like you to have it."

Auriana let out a soft gasp of surprise, and she looked at him as if she hadn't quite heard him correctly.

"Oh... Varian… I couldn't possibly accept such a gift," she stammered, her eyes wide. "This is priceless, an antique… it belongs within your House, within your family…"

"Er… that's precisely what I was trying to say," he said awkwardly.

He looked at her significantly, but she didn't seem to have taken the hint.

"I don't understand…"

"Auriana…  _Auri…_ for most of my life, I have believed myself cursed," he said slowly, choosing each word with the utmost care. "I have lost home, family, friends… and I had come to believe that maybe I would never know anything other than loss - until I met you. You are the bravest, fiercest, and most brilliant woman I have ever met. More than that, you have reminded me that life is for the living… and there is nothing that would make me happier than to share the rest of  _my_  life with you."

He leaned closer, taking both her hands in his, and stared deeply into her eyes.

"To that end… I was hoping - praying, really - that you might do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Auriana shivered fiercely as roughly a hundred different emotions flashed across her face, and for a moment he thought she might have actually stopped breathing.

"Varian..." she gasped.

Her hands began to tremble beneath his, and in that moment, she looked up at him with such sincerity and love that his chest felt suddenly tight.

"Yes?" he prompted gently.

"I… Varian, you know how much I would like to say yes," she said cautiously, her words at stark odds with the expression on her face.

"But?" he said, his heart sinking like a stone at the doubt in her tone.

Varian hadn't expected her to respond with squeals or shouts of joy, as other women might have, but he certainly had expected something more than shocked silence.

"This…" she stammered, gesturing to the gleaming ring. "This isn't just a proposal to be your wife. You're asking me to be the Queen of Stormwind."

"And?"

"And I'm not sure that I… that I can do that…" she said desperately. "If it were just you, you know that I wouldn't hesitate, but…"

"Where did you think this was going, Auriana?" Varian asked, genuinely curious. "Did you suppose that I would simply court you forever?"

"Perhaps. I… I don't really know," Auriana mumbled, staring down at her hands. "I know you had mentioned this before, but I never really thought…"

"You never really thought… what? That I loved you? What must I do to convince you that I'm serious?" Varian asked, trying not to let his frustration enter his voice. "You know that I do not take the ruling of Stormwind lightly, Auriana. I would  _never_  entertain the notion of taking a woman as my queen if I did not genuinely believe she would rule well, no matter how I might have felt about her. You have more than proven your loyalty to the Alliance, and to me personally. You have lead my troops with bravery and honour. Light, woman, you oversaw the defeat of  _Archimonde_  on Draenor. What more could I possibly ask for in a queen?"The fact that she would make a wonderful queen seemed so blindingly obvious to Varian that he almost couldn't fathom how she could believe otherwise, but he saw her eyes cloud over with real fear as she glanced up at him once more.

"Leading troops into battle isn't the same as being a good monarch. I'm not… regal, or diplomatic, or beautiful, or any of the things that people would expect of your wife," Auriana said painfully. "I'm just… me. Hell, I'm a  _berserk_  – and one with magic, no less. I'm a very dangerous person."

"So am I," Varian reminded her.

"It isn't the same," she insisted, shaking her head firmly. "I'd never forgive myself if I somehow let Stormwind down, or worse… if I let  _you_  down."

"I don't believe such a thing is possible," Varian said earnestly, but it seemed Auriana could not agree.

She turned away, her eyes downcast, and she suddenly looked very small.

"I love you," Varian insisted, more gently this time, and he carefully tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I want you to stand by my side as my queen. What could be simpler?"

"I…" she started hesitantly, and in that moment Varian was genuinely afraid that she would say no, once at for all. "I… I need time. Not long. A day. I… c-can I give you an answer tomorrow?"

"Of course you can," Varian murmured, placing the ring back in his pocket for safekeeping. "I want you to be sure."

It was difficult to hide his disappointment, though he was somewhat encouraged by the fact that she had not said refused him outright. He at least had done his part adequately enough – or at least he hoped he had – and he was more than willing to give Auriana a day if that's what she needed to embrace his offer wholeheartedly. Certainly, he did not want to her to acquiesce out of pressure or guilt, and he did his best to hide his inevitable feelings of hurt and rejection as he placed an arm around Auriana's shoulders and pulled her gently against his side.

"Please don't hate me," she mumbled miserably, hugging her arms around her body.

"Never," Varian replied fiercely. "Married or not… I will never stop loving you. Don't you  _ever_  think that, Auriana, don't you dare."

He kissed the top of her head for emphasis, drinking in the wildflower scent of her hair, and she tentatively rested her head back against his chest. He could feel the tension in every line of her body, though she nevertheless reached up to awkwardly entwine her fingers with his. Somewhere off in the distance, outside the city, a lonely wolf howled, and Varian's grip on Auriana instinctively tightened even further. The afternoon had certainly not gone as he had hoped, but he did not want there to be a single  _second_ where she felt unloved, and he cradled her as closely as he was able; both King and Archmage still and silent as together they watched the fire of the dying sun fade slowly into a deep and pensive night.


	18. Auriana

A strong breeze sent Auriana's hair flying wildly as she walked slowly along the banks of Stormwind lake, but the fresh air and bright sunshine did little to quell her racing thoughts. It was about an hour after noon, she thought, though she had lost track of time as she had wandered idly around the Keep and grounds. Sundown was rapidly approaching, far too quickly for her liking, and with it the deadline by which she had promised Varian that she would answer his all-important question.

While Varian had made no secret of his desire to marry her in the past, yesterday's proposal had come as a complete surprise. Deep down, Auriana supposed she had always doubted whether he would ever actually ask, and when he had, she had been entirely caught off guard. She loved Varian fiercely, of course; loved him more than she ever would have believed possible, but the prospect of becoming the next Queen of Stormwind terrified her to the very core.

To that end, she had slipped out of her chambers at the crack of dawn, and had spent the rest of the day in a deep, brooding funk. She had briefly considered trying to talk about her dilemma with someone, but of all the names that came to mind – Anduin, Broll, Khadgar, even Jaina Proudmoore – none seemed appropriate. She suspected that she would talk to Anduin sooner rather than later, however, given that he had been following her since she had left the Keep.

The Prince of Stormwind had at least  _tried_  to be subtle about stalking her, but he was no rogue, and there was no missing the bob of golden hair that had chased her down through the gardens and out towards the lake. Auriana had ignored him thus far, needing to be in her own head for a while, but the more she fretted, the more she began to wonder if talking to him might actually help. Despite his age, Anduin was an unusually insightful and perceptive person, and managed to be so without ever casting judgement.

"Anduin," she sighed finally, shouting to be heard above the wind, "You can come out now."

For a moment, there was silence, until a tall, somewhat sheepish form stepped out from behind a stand of trees and walked slowly towards her.

"I'm guessing you knew I was following you," Anduin muttered, though he didn't look particularly sorry.

"I did. You should come down too, Broll," she added drily, tilting her head back to gaze pointedly at the unusually large stormcrow watching her from the lower branches of a nearby oak.

The crow cocked his head to one side, and if had been possible for crows to shrug, he would have done so. A second later, he took flight, and he landed right at Auriana's feet before shifting back into his more recognisable night elf form.

"How did you know it was me?" Broll asked. "I did a much better job of hiding than Anduin!"

"You're fatter than the other crows," she teased, poking him none too gently in the belly. "And a good deal creepier."

"We weren't being  _creepy_!" Anduin insisted vehemently, and Auriana was forced to bite back a smile.

"You know, I have half a mind to polymorph the both of you and let you graze out here for a while," she grouched, putting her hands on her hips.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've spent the afternoon as an animal," Broll pointed out.

"A sheep is considerably less impressive than a bear," she reminded him drily, though she wasn't really mad.

In a way, their concern was touching, though it did not help to ease the seething nervousness that had settled in her stomach ever since Varian had asked her that terrifying, impossible question.

"I don't want to be a sheep," Anduin said quietly, "If its all the same to you."

Auriana very deliberately made her eyes flash with magical power, and took great delight in watching the Prince squirm beneath her blazing gaze. Eventually, however, she looked away with a sly smile, and bent down to pick up a handful of pebbles so that she might skim them out across the lake.

"So," she said thoughtfully, "Did Varian ask you to talk to me?"

"Of course not. He told me what happened, and then I told Broll. But this is my father we're talking about, he'd never ask for help," Anduin chuckled, coming up to stand on her left side. "We decided to follow you of our own accord."

" _Oh_! You should have said! That makes it  _much_  better," Auriana muttered sarcastically, with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

"Er… sorry," Anduin said, his ears reddening with chagrin, "But please... you have to understand, he's my father. I want him to be happy."

"As do I," Broll added seriously.

"To be honest, Auri... I don't understand why you said no," Anduin said, the slightest hint of reproach entering his voice.

"I didn't say no," Auriana pointed out, though she couldn't quite bring herself to look Anduin in the eye.

"You didn't say yes, either," he countered. "He didn't... get it wrong, did he?"

"Get it wrong?" Auriana repeated, nonplussed. "What do you mean?"

"The proposal. He didn't say something stupid, or recite terrible poetry at you, did he?" Anduin asked worriedly.

"No! As I've told you before, he's actually not as romantically incapable as you seem to think he is," Auriana said quickly. "And even if he were, my answer would not be contingent on the quality of the proposal."

She sighed, and distractedly flicked a pebble out onto the lake, where it bounced three times before dropping beneath the surface with a splash.

"It's not... it's not about Varian himself," she murmured.

"Then why?" Anduin pressed.

"You've heard the rumours flying around the Keep," Auriana said bitterly. "There are plenty of people who think I would make a terrible queen."

"I did not think you were the type of person who cared much for the opinions of others," Broll mused, with a soft grunt of surprise.

"A ruler who does not listen to others quickly becomes a tyrant," Auriana argued. "And unlike most people, I actually have the means by which to be a rather effective and terrifying tyrant."

To emphasise her point, she lobbed a larger rock high in the air over the lake, and targeted it with a fine, pinpoint streak of arcane magic. The spell was simple, and barely cost her as much energy as it did to breathe, but the falling rock nevertheless exploded with spectacular effect.

"You don't trust yourself?" Anduin wondered sadly, watching the debris from the rock scatter across the lake.

"No. I don't. I have avoided seeking power my entire life... I'm not sure I should stop now," Auriana explained.

"Perhaps that's why you should say yes," Broll suggested. "In my experience, those who avoid seeking power are often best equipped to wield it."

"You've never seen me in a proper rage, have you?" Auriana asked, narrowing her eyes. "Either of you."

"No..." Anduin said slowly, while Broll shook his head.

"Then I'm sorry, but you don't understand," she said firmly. "I accepted a position as archmage only because I know that Jaina, Khadgar, and the Council could keep me in check if I were ever to force their hand."

Auriana flopped down into a sitting position at the water's edge, and ran her fingers idly through the lush grass.

"It isn't just that, either," she added. "I never pictured myself as a queen."

"I didn't choose to be a prince," Anduin argued, crouching down beside her.

"The key difference being that you are well suited to the task. Unlike me," she said drily. "I just... I don't know. I want to say yes, but..."

She trailed off and closed her eyes, and hugged her knees tightly to her chest. On one level, the answer was glaringly obvious, but she couldn't quite shake the gnawing feeling of doubt that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

"What if I could offer you a solution?" Broll said slowly, his golden eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration.

"What, you want me to flip a coin or something?" Auriana laughed.

"I would not commend such an important decision to chance," Broll assured her. "However, I could offer you a means to explore your own thoughts."

"I'm listening…"

"I'm not sure if Varian ever told you, but he once completed a ritual designed to help the worgen to find balance, to control their curse," Broll explained. "It works by allowing the ritual subject to explore their own memories."

"He told me," Auriana confirmed. "But I'm not a druid. Or a worgen. I'm not looking to find balance, either, I just want to know what to do."

Broll looked down at her thoughtfully, and his golden eyes glowed with fresh energy.

"You might benefit from a bit of balance, little mage," he said, smiling, "Though I am not suggesting an identical ritual. Very similar, yes, but not quite the same. A tauren might call this a vision quest."

"It would help me find answers?" Auriana said interestedly.

"It might. The success of the ritual largely depends on you," Broll replied. "You must be willing to embrace the procedure wholeheartedly."

Auriana rested her chin on her knees, and a heavy silence fell over the little group as she considered Broll's offer. Rituals of the mind were more common to druids, priests, or shaman, rather than mages, and Auriana could not remember ever participating in something even remotely similar. Even simple healing often made her feel uncomfortable, and she wasn't sure if she could surrender to Broll's druidic magic in the way he might require. That said, walking idly around the Keep all day had done precisely  _nothing_  to clear her head, and at this point she was willing to try just about anyting.

"Alright. I'll do it," she said finally.

"I'll need time to prepare the necessary ritual ingredients," Broll said, nodding approvingly. "And we will need to leave the city. Too much civilisation out here. I need to draw on the powers of the Dream."

"Where, then?"

"Elwynn Forest," he suggested. "I would prefer to take you to Moonglade, but on short notice Elwynn will have to do. Shall I meet you in the throne room in an hour or so?"

"Can I come?" Anduin piped up, his face flushed with curiosity. "I'm sure such a ritual would be fascinating to watch."

"I certainly have no objections," Broll said. "Auriana?"

"Ah... if you like," she said slowly, though she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted Anduin to witness what might likely be a very personal event.

As the ritual master, Broll  _had_  to be there, of course, but Auriana would have preferred not to increase her audience more than was strictly necessary. Still, she had already disappointed Anduin once today by hesitating when it came to his father, and she had no desire to do so again.

"It's settled, then," Broll nodded. "I will collect my materials, and meet you in the throne room shortly."

"Do I need to do anything to prepare?" Auriana wondered.

"No, not at all. Wear something that makes you feel relaxed and comfortable," Broll insisted. "I shall take care of the rest."

Auriana nodded, though of course the prospect of completing such a ritual made her feel anything  _but_  comfortable, and she frowned slightly to herself as Broll once more shifted into his crow form and took off towards Stormwind city proper. Anduin, however, chose to remain by her side, and they sat quietly beside the lake for a long while, before Auriana finally gathered her feet beneath her with a soft sigh. The prince followed soon after, and together they wandered back up the hill and into the Keep.

Neither said a word as they walked, though as they moved to enter one of the many spiral staircases that lead to the Keep's upper levels, Anduin abruptly stopped and reached out to gently grasp Auriana's arm.

"Do… do you intend to teleport us out to the forest, or should we ride?" he asked hesitantly.

There was something in his tone that made Auriana suspect he wasn't voicing the question he really wanted to ask, but she answered him honestly nonetheless.

"We should ride. It's such a lovely day," she suggested. "We'll need an escort, of course, but... I think the ride might do me some good."

"Does the ritual really make you that nervous?"

"Honestly, this whole thing has my stomach in knots. Your father, Broll, everything..." she confessed. "I know that sounds awful."

"Auri..." Anduin said seriously, his heavy brows knitting in a way that reminded her uncannily of his father. "I want you to accept my Father's proposal, but not under duress. If you really don't want to..."

"I know," she assured him quickly. "And I also know that you're just trying to help."

She tentatively moved to link her arm through his, and she smiled as he readily accepted her offer. No sooner had they moved to enter the stairwell, however, then they ran right into none other than Cathelora Anguile. As always, her flaming red locks were immaculately coiffed and her dress magnificent, but she had a strange, almost sour look on her face, and Auriana wondered whether she had been listening in on her conversation with Anduin.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," she said sweetly, bowing respectfully before Anduin before adding a reluctant, "And you, Your Grace."

"Cathelora," Auriana said evenly. "You'll have to excuse us, but we're rather busy."

"Going for a ride, I heard?" Cathelora said innocently, and Auriana's eyes narrowed. "Through the city?"

Anduin opened his mouth to explain, but Auriana dug her nails into his arm to keep him quiet. She might have been being a bit paranoid, but she didn't like the idea of Cathelora knowing exactly where they were going.

"Something like that," she said vaguely.

"Well, it is a lovely day," Cathelora said simperingly. "Don't you think, Prince Anduin?"

"Yes," Anduin said awkwardly. "Perhaps you should take a turn about the gardens?"

"Would you care to join me, Highness?" Cathelora asked, and she batted her eyelashes in a way that simultaneously seemed both entirely natural and utterly impossible to achieve.

"Ah… no, thank you," he said politely. "As Auri said… we're going for a ride."

Cathelora's eyes narrowed imperceptibly at his refusal, but she covered it with a delicate shrug of her shoulders and another glowing smile in his direction. Her enmity towards Auriana was abundantly clear, but it seemed that she was more than willing to play nice with Varian's son.

"Is there anything else?" Auriana asked shortly.

Normally, she might have at least tried to be civil, but she had enough on her mind without having to worry about playing nice with some vapid noblewoman.

"N-no," Cathelora murmured.

"Good," Auriana said quickly. "Then we shall have to bid you farewell."

Without waiting for Cathelora's reply, she tugged gently on Anduin's arm and pulled him into the stairwell. No doubt Cathelora would be scandalised by her rudeness, but Auriana quite frankly didn't care. She bustled Anduin up the stairs, and she didn't slow until she was certain that both Cathelora and her smug, irritating smile were well behind him.

"Wow," Anduin said finally, once they were out of earshot. "She does  _not_  like you."

"Noticed that, did you?" Auriana grumbled. "She wants Varian. Or rather, her father wants Varian."

She smiled slyly, and elbowed Anduin teasingly in the ribs.

"Maybe she could marry you, instead," she added.

"Light, no," Anduin exclaimed, his eyes widening in panic.

"I didn't know you knew her," Auriana remarked.

"Not well, but I've seen enough of her at formal events to know what kind of person she is," Anduin explained. "I've heard her gossiping about you, too. I could never be with someone who said such awful things, much less about someone I care for."

He smiled shyly, and Auriana leaned affectionately into his arm. Since her return from Draenor, Anduin had been kinder and more welcoming than she had any right to expect, and she hoped that he would not think too poorly of her for hesitating when it came to his father's offer.

"I appreciate your loyalty," she said quietly.

"Anytime," Anduin said warmly. "Though for now, we should get you prepared for this ritual. Broll did say you should be comfortable."

"I'm going to need to change if we're riding," Auriana said. "Meet you back here in an hour?"

"Absolutely," Anduin agreed, his head bobbing eagerly.

He slipped his arm free of hers and turned down the corridor that lead to his own rooms, only to pause and glance back over his shoulder with a shy smile.

"Oh, and Auri?" he said quietly, the corners of his eyes crinkling kindly. "Whatever happens out there, you're going to be fine. I promise."

* * *

Mercifully, Varian's chambers were empty, and Auriana was able to change in peace. He had been somewhat aloof since their conversation the day before, if not precisely  _cold_ , and Auriana did not want to see him again until she could give him a definite answer. Furthermore, she didn't want him knowing that she intended to leave the city, lest they be drawn into another tiresome argument about safety. That said, Auriana wasn't stupid, and she made sure to collect her two loyal bodyguards before heading off to rejoin Anduin and Broll. She didn't tell them where they were going, but Ridley and Crowther had long ago learned to accept their charge's eccentricities. Neither guard made any comment as the archdruid lead the way down into the stables, though they watched both Auriana and the prince hawkishly as the small group rode down through the city and out into Elwynn Forest.

Auriana remained silent as they rode, though Broll and Anduin took up a lively conversation with her guards. She stayed a little behind the group as they trotted through the trees, lost as she was in her own thoughts. Indeed, it was only when her horse came to an abrupt stop and she nearly fell off that she looked up, and realised that they had already ridden about five miles outside the city. Broll had lead them to a pretty, open clearing beside the shores of a small lake, where the forest seemed especially lush and verdant. A few small birds chirped happily in the trees above, and Auriana thought she saw the tawny flank of a deer disappear into the treeline as her little group collectively dismounted.

"This ought to do," Broll said approvingly, looking back Auriana. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she muttered, running up the stirrups on her saddle and securing her horse to a nearby tree.

"Do you want us to stay?" Crowley asked, eyeing Broll skeptically.

"No, it's quite alright. Take up a perimeter," Auriana ordered.

"Are you certain? The King…"

"… is not here," Auriana said firmly. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Anduin bit back a smile at her words, though Crowley looked considerably less impressed. Nevertheless, she ordered the guard to stand down, and within a few short minutes they had vanished into the trees. Auriana waited until she was certain that they were out of earshot, before she turned back to Broll with a tight, nervous smile.

"Alright," she said. "What do you need me to do?"

"You can relax, for a start," Broll grinned, gesturing for her to sit.

"Sorry," she mumbled, crossing her legs and flopping down into the lush grass.

Broll sat down calmly in the grass beside her, while Anduin took up a position on the other side. The Prince of Stormwind looked incredibly curious, and certainly keener to engage in the process than Auriana herself. Still, she had promised to go along with whatever the archdruid suggested, and she would do her best to be open to the experience.

"Eat this," Broll said, holding out a tapered, feathery leaf toward her.

"What is it?"

"Moonleaf," he explained. "It will help to prepare your mind – and hopefully calm you down."

"You're drugging me," Auriana realised, uncertainly accepting the proffered plant life and chewing it slowly.

"For lack of a better term – yes," Broll agreed.

"Is it safe?" Anduin asked, glancing worriedly at Auriana.

"Perfectly. Though I warn you, Auriana… what you are going to see will feel very real," he said seriously.

"Do you know what I will see?" she wondered. "Will you be guiding the visions?"

"No. I am merely a catalyst for the magic," Broll explained. "I will offer you the means to see three visions, but the content of those visions will be up to you."

Auriana nodded, and she felt a strange tingling sensation work its way up her spine as the power of the moonleaf took hold. Her senses sharpened, and everything around her now appeared in sharp relief. The birds in the trees seemed louder, the breeze caressing her cheek stronger; and the green of the forest suddenly so bright as to almost hurt her eyes.

"I feel… peaceful…" she murmured. "Calm. It's… weird."

"That's good," Broll said quietly, placing a hand on her back to keep her steady. "Now, drink."

He offered her a rough-hewn chalice filled with what seemed to be water, though Auriana suspected it was anything but. Green druidic magic swirled around Broll's hands as she lifted the cup, and she smiled drowsily at Anduin over the rim of the vessel as she took a deep swig.

"To your good health, Anduin..."

"Lie down, Auriana," Broll instructed, gently extricating the cup from her fingers as he guided her down to the grass. "Anduin… she may move whilst in the vision. Do not attempt to wake her, but you may help to keep her still."

Auriana felt Anduin's cool hand move to her arm, but she found it difficult to focus on his face. She felt a curious thrum of energy surge through her bones, but at the same time her limbs felt so heavy that she could barely move. Strange green lights danced in front of her vision, and she felt herself being pulled irresistibly down into sleep.

"Focus on Varian," Broll said, though he sounded very far away. "Hold the question in your mind."

"Broll... what…"

Words failed her as her eyes drifted shut; and with a soft sigh, she surrendered to the dream.

* * *

Auriana opened her eyes and looked around, and was surprised to find that she was no longer lying beneath the canopy of Elwynn Forest, but rather standing in the middle of Varian's bedchambers. Every detail of the room was perfect, from the slightly disheveled blankets and furs upon the bed, to the roaring fire crackling in the hearth. It was so real that Auriana could even feel the warmth of the fire on her skin, though at the same time everything seemed ever so slightly  _off_ , as if she were viewing the room through a pane of glass.

Tentatively, Auriana reached out and ran her hands along one of the furs, and was surprised at how warm and soft it felt beneath her fingers. She then made her way towards the balcony, wondering whether the entire city had been rendered just as realistically, when the skin on the back of her neck prickled in warning as she distinctly felt the presence of another person in the room. She turned, curious to see if Varian were to appear, but instead she only a had a second to gasp in surprise as a small, feminine fist came flying at her face.

Auriana felt her nose break, and she cried out in pain and shock as a sudden explosion of blood poured down her face. She staggered backwards, nearly tripping on the hem of her dress, and she blinked rapidly as she attempted to identify her attacker. She saw a flash of blonde hair and crystalline blue eyes, and she coughed in utter bewilderment as her addled mind slowly puzzled her attacker's facial features into a comprehensible whole.

" _Tiffin Wrynn_?" she exclaimed, though of course such a thing was impossible. "What the…"

Auriana barely had enough time to speak before the blonde-haired woman dealt her a resounding, open palmed slap, and she tumbled roughly to the floor. Of course, Auriana had no idea why Tiffin wanted to beat her senseless, especially given that the former Queen of Stormwind had always been described as a very gentle soul, but she had never been one to back down from a fight. Her warrior's instincts took over and she instinctively reached for her magic... only to immediately realised that there was nothing there.

 _Oh, come_ on, she groaned inwardly.  _My mind can hallucinate a perfect fur rug, but not magic?_

Unfortunately, while magic was nonexistent, it seemed that pain was still very much of a reality. Auriana's ruined nose throbbed painfully, and she could barely gather her thoughts well enough to scramble out of the way as Tiffin stalked around the side of the bed. Her beautiful face was a serene, expressionless mask, but there was no mistaking her intent. Tiffin was also a tall woman, more than half a foot taller than Auriana herself, and while Auriana was the more heavily muscled of the pair, Tiffin's disorienting first blow had given her a distinct advantage.

Auriana clenched her fists, readying herself for the inevitable second strike, and rolled to the side seconds before Tiffin attempted to unleash a brutal kick to her ribs. At the same time, she sprung to her feet and threw herself across the bed, leaping for where she knew Varian kept a pair of sharp daggers hidden beneath the mattress. Everything else in the dream was exactly where it was in real life, save for the bizarrely murderous Tiffin, and Auriana had no reason to believe that this one detail would be any different.

Just as Auriana's fingers brushed against the cool metal of Varian's daggers, however, she felt Tiffin's hand knot in her long hair and yank her head back painfully; the sudden pressure on her skull forcing her roughly to her feet. The taller woman then wrapped her arm around Auriana's throat, and she found herself suddenly gasping for air as Tiffin squeezed with surprising force. Auriana choked and spluttered as black dots danced in front of her vision, but she managed to gather her wits enough to stomp down hard on Tiffin's left foot, before driving her elbow hard into the other woman's ribs with a satisfying crack.

Tiffin grunted in pain and released Auriana immediately, and she took full advantage of Tiffin's distraction to dive sideways across the bed and snatch up Varian's hidden daggers.

"Enough!" Auriana shouted, rolling back to her feet and raising her twin knives defensively. "I do not want to hurt you, but I will defend myself if necessary."

She was breathing heavily, but Tiffin seemed entirely unfazed; not a strand of her shining blonde hair out of place as she stared placidly back at Auriana across the bed. Indeed, she looked merely curious, as if she were contemplating a toy-maker's puzzle, rather than having just broken Auriana's nose in a completely unprovoked attack.

"Why the hell would you want to attack me?" Auriana demanded. "It doesn't… it doesn't even make any sense! By all accounts, you're a good person! You're not violent, or angry, you're…'

Auriana shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, when realisation suddenly hit her like a slap to the face.

"You're not," she whispered. "But I am. And we're in my head, not yours."

Her aggressive posture sagged, and the twin daggers tumbled to the floor as her fingers inadvertently twitched open. As Auriana relaxed, so too did Tiffin, and Auriana realised that her assumption was correct – that the other woman's anger was merely a reflection of Auriana's  _own_  insecurities, and not at all a representation of her true self.

"Light, I'm sorry," she muttered bitterly, wiping the blood from her face with the sleeve of her robe. "This isn't you. This is… what I imagine you might want to do to me. Maybe even what I might want do to you if our positions were reversed."

Auriana turned away, and her cheeks burned hot with shame as she collapsed limply into a sitting position on the bed. She thought she heard Tiffin move, but she kept her eyes firmly trained on her own shaking hands. Although the rational part of her mind knew that none of this bizarre scenario was real, her embarrassment and confusion was certainly no illusion, and she didn't quite trust herself to speak.

"May I sit?"

Tiffin's voice was fittingly soft and musical, though of course Auriana had never actually heard her speak in life. She reluctantly glanced up, and was surprised to see Tiffin standing right beside her, her impossibly beautiful face a picture of serenity.

"I'm so sorry," Auriana repeated awkwardly. "You're not the one who can't let him go… it's me who can't let of go of you. I… I'm not proud of it."

She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her skirts, but did not move as Tiffin gracefully swept past her to take her own seat on the edge of the bed.

"Auriana… I'm dead," Tiffin said slowly, carefully choosing each word. "I've been dead for a long time. The dead do not know fear, or anger, or jealousy. Pain is for the living."

"He loves you so much, you know," Auriana murmured. "Even after all this time… he can barely say your name. He puts you on a such a pedestal, I…"

"I know. And it isn't fair of him," Tiffin said gently.

She smiled, and patted Auriana's thigh in a motherly fashion.

"I could haunt him for you, if you liked. That ought to scare him straight," she suggested, and her expression was so kind and earnest that Auriana couldn't help but to bark out a short, nervous laugh.

"Thank you for the offer, but I think Azeroth has more than enough restless spirits," she replied.

"Oh, of course," Tiffin agreed, nodding good-naturedly. "In that case, I might leave him be."

She withdrew her hand, but her eyes remained fixed on Auriana's face. Her expression was mostly friendly, but there was a slight crinkle between her eyes that spoke to her concern.

"Do you really think he compares the two of us?" she asked finally.

"No," Auriana growled uncertainly, only to immediately doubt her own words. "Yes. I don't know. I mean… it must surely have crossed his mind at some point… right?"

"And you believe you would fare unfavourably in such a comparison," Tiffin concluded, nodding thoughtfully to herself.

"Have you  _seen_  you?" Auriana coughed, her eyebrows shooting upwards in disbelief.

Tiffin chuckled softly at the unusual compliment, but there was no malice or cruelty in her laugh. Rather, she seemed to radiate a cool, soothing empathy, and Auriana was starkly reminded of Anduin.

"Varian has had his entire life planned for him," Tiffin said seriously, tilting her head slightly to one side as she spoke. "From the moment he was born, he was bound to be a king… bound to marry me… bound to sire an heir, regardless of what he himself may have wanted. He did not choose to be taken as a gladiator, either, or to have his body and soul torn asunder. You are the first thing he has chosen for himself in a long time – perhaps the first thing in his entire  _life_  that has been solely his choice, and his alone."

"I never thought about it that way," Auriana admitted slowly, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over her.

"It's sometimes hard to see the truth of things when you are yourself at the heart of the matter," Tiffin said sagely. "But in this case, I think you would benefit from broadening your perspective. Something to think on, in any case."

"You're very wise," Auriana said honestly.

"I don't think it's wisdom, so much as knowing my subject very well," Tiffin said, her slight smile fading into a worried frown. "Varian… well, he would never admit it, but he needs people in his life. He is fierce, and brave, and glorious… but sometimes he needs someone to remind him of his humanity."

"Tiffin…"

"I wanted… Light, I wanted so many things…" Tiffin sighed, "But more than anything else, I have always wanted him to be happy. You make him happy. Please don't forget that."

She paused, and looked across at Auriana with shining blue eyes.

"May I ask you something?"

"Anything," Auriana said quickly.

"My son… is he…?"

"Anduin is a wonderful young man," Auriana assured her, sensing the other woman's unspoken question. "He is kind, and clever, and generous… He has the brightest soul of any person I've ever met. You should be incredibly proud."

"Promise me you'll take look after him. And Varian," Tiffin whispered urgently. "Wrynn men tend to think only of others. Sometimes they need to remember to take care of themselves."

Her voice was very quiet as she spoke, and her once bright expression grew dim and sad. For all Varian had lost a wife and Anduin a mother, she had also lost  _them_ , and Auriana was suddenly very grateful to be alive. Tiffin would never see her son blossom from a sweet, promising adolescent to a wise and thoughtful ruler, nor would she ever again know the warmth of Varian's touch, and for the first time it occurred to Auriana that perhaps  _Tiffin_  was the one who had the real cause to be jealous.

"I promise," she swore gravely. "I would do anything keep them safe."

Auriana self-consciously reached for Tiffin's hand, and gave it what she hoped was a heartening squeeze. She knew she was not the most comforting person, even at the best of times, and while she knew the Tiffin beside her was neither living nor real, it somehow seemed the right thing to do.

"Thank you," Tiffin murmured finally, and she smiled sadly as she stared down at their conjoined hands.

Auriana nodded in silent acknowledgement, closing her eyes for the briefest second, but when she opened them, Tiffin was gone, and her hand was holding nothing but air. The familiar stone of Varian's chambers had given way to the rich emerald green canopy of Elwynn Forest and the cloudless blue sky above; the room vanishing so quickly and completely that it might have never been. Auriana blinked dazedly and immediately reached for her nose, but it felt as smooth and as unbroken as ever beneath her anxious fingertips. Her hands came away clean of blood, and she frowned slightly in confusion.

"What did you see?" Anduin asked curiously, gently supporting Auriana's back as she sat herself upright.

"Um… I… I saw your mother," she muttered awkwardly. "She… er… broke my nose."

" _What_?"

"It felt so real…" Auriana murmured, glancing somewhat reproachfully at Broll.

"Pain is created in the mind… and the mind is a powerful thing," the Archdruid mused. "I assure you, however, your nose is still intact."

"You saw my mother," Anduin repeated, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "What happened? Why did she hit you? That doesn't sound like her at all…"

"Ah… we had a little trouble seeing eye to eye," Auriana said stiffly, shaking her head in a futile attempt to try to clear away the last haze of the dream. "But we got there in the end."

"Did she…" Anduin started, but Broll cut him off with a warning hand on the shoulder.

"Visions are a very personal thing, Anduin," he said gently, clearly sensing Auriana's discomfort.

A strange expression crossed Anduin's face, though he nevertheless fell quiet, and gave Auriana a small, apologetic shrug.

"I'll tell you the story some other time, I promise," Auriana assured him. "And if it helps any… she's got a mean right hook."

Anduin smiled nervously, though it was clear he wasn't entirely sure whether or not Auriana was joking.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked her seriously.

"It was… much more vivid than I expected. I had to keep reminding myself that it wasn't real," Auriana admitted.

"You can take a few moments, if you like. I know this process can be overwhelming," Broll suggested gently.

"No, it's fine," she insisted, squaring her jaw. "I want to go again."

"Whenever you're ready," Broll smiled, and he held out the rough-hewn wooden cup towards her for a second time.

* * *

Auriana took a long sip, and carefully handed the cup back to Broll before once again laying down in the thick grass and closing her eyes. She fell into the dream much faster than she had the first time around, perhaps because her mind was now primed and ready to accept the hallucination. This time, however, she did not wake in the warm comfort of Varian's chambers, but rather in a small but immaculate kitchen that somehow seemed vaguely familiar.

On the table in the centre of the room sat a teapot and two teacups, each made of the finest eggshell blue china. Tiny, white sailed ships had been painstakingly painted on the body of the pot, and Auriana felt a flash of memory take her as she traced her fingers over the cool porcelain. Outside, a seagull cawed cheerfully, and a fresh, salty sea breeze whipped in through the open window.

 _Theramore_ , she realised.  _This is our kitchen… was our kitchen…_

In the real world, everything she now saw had been reduced to nothing but powder by Garrosh Hellscream's mana bomb, but in her dream, the cheerful little cookery was untouched. Every single detail was perfect, from the row of tiny porcelain animals lined up along the windowsill, to the vase full of impossibly sunny yellow flowers sitting on the table. The whole place was bright and cheery, and it felt so much like happiness and  _home_  that Auriana was suddenly overwhelmed by memory. She could remember sitting on her father's lap at breakfast as clearly as if it had happened only yesterday, and she could almost hear the echo of his rich, boisterous laugh in her ears. She had been sitting in this very kitchen when Jaina Proudmoore had invited her to Dalaran as an apprentice; and she distinctly recalled her mother beaming proudly at her over a cup of tea as the Lady of Theramore enthusiastically praised Auriana's potential.

 _Light, I was so young,_ she thought, unable to remember precisely when she had lost the ability to feel the kind of simple, uncomplicated joy that had defined her childhood.

Lost in her memories, Auriana nearly missed the sound of a door opening from somewhere outside. Her damaged hearing did not seem so bad in her dream, however, and she still caught a quiet footfall and the creak of the wood as someone slipped inside. She whirled towards the sound, wondering who her mind had seen fit to conjure this time - and her jaw dropped. Standing in the doorway was none other than Alliana Fenwild, her thick red hair shining like the sun and her smile as wide as the sea. Her skin shone like pale, burnished gold, and she was so serene and bright, and so markedly different from her wild, dark daughter, that Auriana couldn't help but wonder how they could have possibly been related.

"Mother?" Auriana gasped, her throat going dry.

"You look surprised to see me," Alliana said kindly, her voice just as sweet and melodious as Auriana remembered. "Please, take a seat."

She swept elegantly over towards the kitchen table, her silken skirts swirling around her ankles as she moved, and she began to calmly pour them each a cup of tea. Auriana stood in shock for a few moments, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find something to say, but she eventually convinced her wooden legs to move, and slid gracelessly into the seat opposite her mother.

"Look at you," Alliana said proudly. "I always knew you'd be a beauty."

"What? I was an adult when you died. You already know what I grew up to look like," Auriana said, confused. "Hell, if anything, I look worse. I've gained a fair few scars since we last spoke."

She ran her hands over the faint rune scars on her forearms, shivering ever so slightly as she remembered the torment she had endured before her explosive escape from Blackrock Foundry.

"I was tortured," she added. "My escape was not without consequences."

"I know," Alliana said sadly, the corners of her mouth turning downward with compassion. "But you're still beautiful, scars and all."

"You're my mother. You're biased," Auriana pointed out, though she couldn't help but to smile at the utter certainty in Alliana's voice.

"I may be your mother, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong," Alliana countered, taking a delicate sip of her tea. "It's subtle, but… the way you hold yourself… the light in your eyes… you're in love."

She looked thrilled by the prospect, and her enormous blue eyes were luminous as she reached out and grasped Auriana tightly by the wrist. Her fingers were soft and warm, and for a second Auriana completely forgot that the woman sitting in front of her was only a hallucination conjured by her own mind.

"I- I am," she agreed shyly. "It wasn't… intentional. Honestly, I have no idea how it happened, but… somehow I went and fell in love with a king."

"And now he wants you as his bride," Alliana smiled. "Why are you hesitating? Do you not believe his love for you is genuine?"

"No, nothing like that. Varian is very clear about how he feels… if not with words, then certainly with actions," Auriana murmured. "The problem is mine, not his. I'm just not sure I'm ready to be a queen. I'm not sure I'd ever be ready."

She took a slow sip of her own drink, finding it just as fruity and flavoursome as she remembered from her youth. Alliana had always favoured exotic teas, and over the years had amassed an extensive collection of blends from all corners of Azeroth. As a child, there hadn't been a single afternoon where Auriana hadn't been made to try some new concoction, though for matters of comfort Alliana had always turned to one particular bergamot brew – the very same one that Auriana now drank.

"As I understand it, your king himself was thrust into rulership at a very young age," Alliana said thoughtfully. "Do you think he was ready?"

"That's different," Auriana said dismissively. "He was raised from birth to be a monarch."

"Auriana… you come from a line that is as old as human civilisation on this continent," Alliana argued, her voice at once both soft and firm. "You are the culmination of generations of great lords and ladies… of fierce warriors and brave heroes. Leadership is in your blood just as much as it is in his."

She looked impossibly calm and regal, and Auriana could help but to feel that of the two women in the room, she was not the one who should be a queen.

"I don't understand," she said, frowning. "You've never been concerned about our bloodline. You and Father worked incredibly hard to get away from a life of nobility. If I embrace that – become a queen, no less – on some level it feels like I'm betraying you."

"Oh, no, no, my sweet girl," Alliana said quickly. "You misunderstand. I ran away with your father because I loved him, not because I was fleeing my heritage."

"But Grandfather…"

"He was a hard man, it's true," Alliana said sadly, her beautiful eyes clouding over. "But I had a good life in Lordaeron, and I do not regret a single moment of my time there."

"If you liked it so much, then why did you leave?" Auriana wondered.

"We left Lordaeron to save your life," Alliana pointed out. "I begged your grandfather to join Jaina Proudmoore's expedition, but he was too proud. Too stubborn. If it had been within my power to compel him… I would have. I didn't want him to die."

"You still eschewed your title, even after arriving in Theramore," Auriana said slowly. "Our family fell with Lordaeron, and yet you refused to keep your name. You didn't even keep Father's name."

"It's not about what I lost, Auriana, but what I gained," Alliana said gently. "It was time for a new life, for all of us… but that doesn't mean I ever forgot where I came from."

Auriana had always believed that her mother had carried great resentment of her noble family, but the more she thought on it, the more she realised that Alliana was simply not the kind to hold such a grudge. She was the type of person who always saw the best in others, and for the first time in her life, Auriana began to wonder if she hadn't completely misunderstood her mother's motivations.

"I wasn't running away from my past. I was running towards my future. If your father were a prince or pauper, it would have made no difference to me. I would have done whatever it took to be with him," Alliana added, a whimsical smile gracing her immaculate features.

She forward slightly in her chair, and brushed a loose strand of Auriana's hair back behind her ear.

"Now," she said crisply, "Tell me… is he a good man, this Varian Wrynn?"

She looked almost indignant, as if she were ready to put Varian over her knee if he had been naughty, and Auriana was forced to hide a smile behind a sip of tea.

"The best I've ever met," she said honestly. "Perhaps it isn't something that's immediately apparent - even I didn't see at first - but… he has the most incredible heart. He's a king, in every sense of the word."

"King or no, if he mistreated you your father would have his hide," Alliana remarked, her eyes sparkling kindly.

"I think Father would have liked him, actually," Auriana said quietly, wishing her mind had seen fit to conjure him, as well.

"No doubt," Alliana smiled. "Though he might have had a few questions."

"Like what?"

"Well… is he worthy of you, this king?" Alliana asked primly.

"Mother…"

"What?"

"I don't know how to even start answering that question," Auriana grumbled, throwing her hands up. "He's the High King of the Alliance. Shouldn't you be asking whether I'm worthy of him?"

"Auriana, darling, you are my single greatest achievement in this world. I would not give up such a precious treasure to just any man," Alliana insisted. "So yes. I believe I am asking the right question. Is he worthy of you?"

"I don't know…" Auriana mumbled, staring down at her tea cup and swirling the liquid idly around. "I'm not sure whether… I deserve to be loved."

"Nonsense," Alliana said swiftly, her brilliant eyes suddenly sharp. "Everyone deserves to be loved."

Auriana nodded vaguely, but there was little point in lying to her mother. Alliana had never been the cleverest of women, but she understood people on a level that Auriana could barely fathom, and she had an uncanny knack for sensing falsehood.

"You have suffered more than anyone should have to suffer in a lifetime," Alliana said softly, her voice impossibly warm with love and compassion. "It isn't a sin to want something for yourself… to ask something back from the world that has taken so much of you. Is he what you want?"

"I don't…" Auriana started, only to be cut off by her mother's uncharacteristically stern glare.

"Little Auri… my dear, obstinate girl…" Alliana sighed. "Why must you always make everything so difficult? No ifs, no buts, no arguments. Answer the question."

"Yes," she said finally. "He is. Sometimes… Light, sometimes I want him so much that it  _hurts_."

"Then don't let him slip through your fingers," Alliana advised. "If you love this man half as much as I loved your father, then you should do whatever it takes it to be with him. No matter how much it scares you."

She finished the last sip of her tea and stood, the smile never leaving her face as she gathered her skirts and prepared to leave.

"Wait! I don't want you to go," Auriana said urgently; nearly knocking over her cup of tea as she, too, flew to her feet. "I have so much I want to tell you."

"This is but a dream, Auriana," Alliana said sadly. "I cannot stay forever."

"I know," Auriana whispered. "But... I need your help. I love him, but I don't know what I'm  _doing_. I... I never pictured myself marrying anyone, but I always thought that if I did, you would be there."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Alliana murmured. "But know this – whatever you decide to do… your father and I are proud of you. We always have been."

She stepped forward to take Auriana's face in her hands, and she placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her forehead. Her enormous blue eyes were perfect mirrors of Auriana's own, and they shone with both joy and sadness as she stared down at her only daughter. The strength of a mother's love crashed over Auriana like a wave, and she gasped in surprise as she felt tears begin to track silently down her face. She lunged forwards, burying her head against Alliana's breast, and both mother and daughter clutched at one another tightly as the hallucination slowly began to fade…

* * *

Auriana's eyes flicked open, and she made a futile attempt to wipe away her tears before Broll or Anduin saw. Unfortunately, it was an impossible task, given their relative positions, and she saw identical expressions of surprise and concern cross their faces.

"Auri?" Anduin asked, gently slipping an arm around her shoulders as he helped her to sit up. "Are you alright?"

He looked rather upset, and Auriana realised that he must have only ever seen her cry once or twice before. She couldn't remember much of the immediate aftermath of her torture in Blackrock Foundry, but she knew both that her reaction had been spectacular, and that Anduin had been there. They might have shown it in different ways, but Anduin was just as protective a person as his father, and Auriana knew that it would worry him greatly to see her similarly undone – even if the reason were bittersweet.

"I saw… my mother…" she whispered. "I'd forgotten how beautiful she was."

Auriana fumbled blindly for Anduin's hand, knotting her fingers tightly through his, and for a long moment they simply sat together, silently comforting one another over their mutual losses. She could tell from the look on his face that he understood exactly how she felt, and she desperately wished she could have saved both his mother and hers from their untimely deaths. Still, that was not the way the world worked, and the best Auriana could do was to offer him her kindness and understanding.

Eventually, however, Broll interrupted their solemn vigil with a quiet cough, and Auriana shook herself back to reality. She squeezed Anduin's hand once and let it go, before reaching out for Broll's magical concoction once more.

"Are you sure you don't need more time?" the Archdruid asked, his golden eyes sharp. "It will be dark soon, but you could still take a few minutes."

"I want to finish this," Auriana said firmly, taking her last sip of the clear liquid and lying back in the grass.

She closed her eyes for the final time, and when she opened them she was surprised to find herself standing in the middle of Stormwind's throne room. Instinctively, she looked around for Varian, but there was no one else to be seen. On a normal day, the throne room would have been bustling with guards and servants and other citizens of Stormwind, but in Auriana's vision, it was impossibly still and silent.

The throne itself shone bright white and gold, thought it somehow seemed much larger and more imposing than in real life. Uncertain, Auriana stepped forward to run her fingers over one of the masterfully carved gold lions that ringed the great seat, wondering why her mind had conjured this particular scene. As with the other visions, everything seemed almost perfectly real, but she couldn't figure out why this place, of all places, might have been important.

"It looks rather uncomfortable, don't you think?"

Auriana whirled, startled by the sound of a quiet female voice from somewhere behind her, and her mouth fell open in shock as she turned to see… herself. Or at least… Auriana thought she was staring at her double, though the other woman was undoubtedly better dressed. She wore a grand, sweeping dark blue dress that had been immaculately embroidered along the bodice, and her hair was bound more elaborately than Auriana would have believed possible. Subtle gems glittered at her wrists and ears, and the long, trailing skirt of the dress swirled delicately around her ankles as she walked. Auriana was not sartorially inclined, but even she could appreciate the gown's immense beauty, as well as the fact that it was the type of dress that would have only been made for the noblest of ladies – or a queen.

"Striking, yes, but uncomfortable," the double continued, as if she hadn't noticed Auriana's surprise. "I wonder how Varian does it, sitting up there for hours."

"You… you're… you're me," Auriana said dumbly.

"Well done," the double said, smiling beatifically as she swept up the stairs and took a seat on the throne. "Though you always were clever."

"And sarcastic, apparently…"

Auriana had seen herself doubled with magic before, of course, but this was something different entirely. A mirror image was simply an empty magical construct, whereas the double that now sat before her appeared to be as warm and alive and sentient as Auriana herself.

"I'm not who you expected," the double said shrewdly, leaning back into the high seat and folding her hands neatly in her lap.

"No, you're not," Auriana agreed, finding it thoroughly unnerving to be having a conversation with herself. "I mean… I understand why I saw Tiffin. I understand why I saw my mother. But why are  _you_  here?"

"Because you're – quite frankly – terrible at introspection," the double answered, with a small, apologetic shrug. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that you're incapable, it's just that you refuse to engage in the process. You fear that if you look too deeply into your own heart, you won't like you what you find."

"I don't… I'm not afraid…"

"Of course you are. You can't lie to me, Auri," the double said smoothly.

Her bright blue eyes glinted fiercely, and Auriana wondered if that's how she looked when she was feeling confident. The small half smile… the intense, icy sharp stare… the square, predatory set to her shoulders…

Auriana looked away.

"I don't think I like you very much," she muttered.

"Well, that's revealing," the double remarked.

"Shut up."

"Oh no, I think we're onto something here... I mean, isn't that the real problem?" the double mused. "All this hesitation… it has nothing to do with Varian, or being the Queen of Stormwind, or anything else. This has everything to do with  _you_ , and the fact that  _you_  think you're fundamentally unlovable."

The double spoke quietly, but her words cracked through the air like a whip, and she could not have cut Auriana deeper if she had tried.

" _Shut up_."

"Hit a nerve, did I?" the double pressed.

Auriana glanced back at her, and was surprised to see that she was now leaning forward, her fingers gripping the arms of the throne tightly. She looked alarmingly eager, and her gaze was so keen and clever that it seemed as if the she could stare right into Auriana's soul.

"After all… who could love a monster?" the double added, reflecting Auriana's innermost fears as well as she had reflected her face. "That's what you are, isn't it? All that fight, and fire, and fury. Even Varian Wrynn is not so brave a man that he could face what's lurking deep down in  _your_  heart."

"I really don't like you," Auriana muttered heatedly.

Even in the dream world, it seemed her fury was as strong as ever, and she grit her teeth in a futile attempt to resist the urge to lash out.

"Back at you," the double said lightly, her tone teasing and almost playful. "You're the least likeable person I know."

"I'm the only person you know!" Auriana shouted, her fear and irritation bubbling to the surface. "You're not real! And I am not a monster!'

"Ah… there we are," the double said delightedly. "You have such a fine fury, Auriana… you really should embrace it more often."

" _What_?" Auriana exclaimed. "You're not making any sense! First you call me a monster, then you praise me for my rage?"

"Me? I'm not saying anything that you don't think," the double countered evenly. "As you pointed out… I'm not real. This love-hate relationship you seem to have with your anger is on you, not on me."

She bit her lip thoughtfully, and rested her chin on her hands.

"How many times do you need to learn this lesson, Auriana? It's not the fire, it's how you use it," she said seriously. "You're so willing to fight for others, to become the monster that they need, but you'd never dream of fighting for yourself."

The double raised an eyebrow provocatively, but Auriana couldn't find it within herself to contest the point. Her concern over being queen was genuine, but deep down, the real reason she had hesitated was due to the fundamental doubt that had shaped her life ever since she had tumbled into the Maelstrom with Deathwing.

"What are you so afraid of, really?" the double asked, her voice altogether gentler than it had been only moments ago.

Her expression softened, and she stared down at Auriana not with challenge, but with pity. Auriana sighed.

"What if he…"

"What if he sees you, all of you? It's a bit late to worry about that," the double remarked, reading Auriana's mind. "He saw the truth of you a  _long_  time ago. You should give him more credit, he's a lot smarter than he lets on."

"That isn't the point…"

"But it is," the double urged. "Do you trust him?"

"With my life," Auriana said honestly.

"Then why not trust his judgement?" the double wondered, her eyes narrowing slightly. "He has seen everything that you are, and he loves you for it. Have you tricked him somehow? Made him see things that aren't there? You are a master mage, after all.'

"No, of course not," Auriana protested, horrified at the very thought. "I would never turn my magic on him like that!"

"Then why don't you believe him? He loves  _you_. He wants  _you_. And he wants you because of who you are, not in spite of it," the double argued. "Varian isn't a pampered, indolent noble… he's a warrior king. He deserves a warrior queen."

The double's jaw tightened determinedly, and her tiny hands balled into fists.

"Look - I understand why you're afraid. I understand better than anyone. But I also know who you are – I mean… I'm you," she said, smiling ever so slightly. "You're a good person, Auriana. Varian sees it. Khadgar sees it, and Anduin, and Broll, and the hundreds of men and women who have served under your command… why can't you?"

She stood up, and gestured to the throne.

"You don't have to be perfect," she finished. "You just have to do the best you can. That's all anyone in this world has a right to ask of you. That's all you can ever ask of yourself. Now come. Sit."

Auriana frowned skeptically, but she nevertheless mounted the stairs and took a reluctant seat upon the great throne. It was colder than she had expected, and she shivered slightly as the touch of cool stone grazed her legs beneath her thin dress. The stone seat forced her to sit very straight, and it had clearly been made for someone far larger than she, but it did not feel as uncomfortable or intimidating as she might have expected.

"Is that really so awful?"

"No…" Auriana admitted. "It's not."

"Change is inevitable, no matter how much you may not like it," the double murmured gently. "But not all change is bad. You're more than happy to risk your life on a battlefield, but you won't risk your heart?  _Take this risk_ , Auriana. For both our sakes."

She smiled then; a broad, genuine smile of the likes that Auriana had never seen on her own face, before turning and walking slowly from the throne room with her head held high. Auriana watched her closely, and was surprised with the grace and confidence with which her double walked.

 _Do I look like that_? she wondered, and she sat ever so slightly straighter as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be pulled back to the real world.

For the third time that day, she opened her eyes to see both Broll and Anduin looming anxiously over her, and she smiled reassuringly as she dragged herself back up into a sitting position. Unlike the previous two visions, this one had left her with a unfamiliar sense of calm and purpose, as if the last pieces of her once shattered heart had finally fallen into place.

"What did you see this time?" Anduin asked, his blue eyes wide.

"I… ah… I talked to someone I should have talked to a long time ago," Auriana said finally, unsure of how to best explain what she had just witnessed.

Her double had been right – she had always avoided reflecting too deeply on her innermost fears – but having a genuine, honest conversation with herself had not been as bad as she had expected.

"Thank you," she murmured, glancing briefly up at Broll.

"You are welcome," he said warmly, gently patting her leg. "I only hope you found the answers you were looking for."

"I did," Auriana murmured.

Her gaze shifted to Anduin, and she gave him a small, nervous smile.

"I'm… ah… I'm going to say y-yes," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

An excited thrill rolled down her back as she said the words, and she was surprised at how happy the prospect made her. Furthermore, to her relief, Broll barked out a short laugh of approval, while Anduin practically launched himself in her direction and threw his arms around her neck.

"Really?" the prince exclaimed. "You mean it?"

"I do," said Auriana quickly, the strength of her conviction growing the more she considered spending the rest of her life at Varian's side. "I…"

Whatever she had intended to say was lost, however, as something slammed hard into the back of her left shoulder. Auriana grunted in shock, and gasped as a blinding pain suddenly radiated out from the impact point. Dimly, she thought she heard Anduin call her name, but he sounded very faint, as if he was suddenly very far away. Disoriented and confused, she turned her head to the left, and was surprised to see the long shaft of an arrow protruding from her back. Before she could move, however, she heard Broll roar a challenge as he shifted into his hulking bear from, and in that instant, everything went to hell.


	19. Anduin

Anduin was in a world of trouble.

One second, he had been hugging Auriana tightly, delighted by her decision to accept his father's offer; only to feel her body stiffen and the air leave her lungs a moment later as she was hit by an arrow from behind. Oddly, however, she did not reach for her magic, instead simply turning to stare in shock at the slender shaft protruding from her shoulder.

In stark contrast, Broll had transformed into a bear almost immediately, roaring a challenge as he took up a defensive posture between Anduin, Auriana, and the ostensible direction of the shooter. He was absolutely enormous, his teeth almost as long as one of Anduin's hands, but Anduin knew that a lone druid would not be able to hold out forever against an unknown number of assassins - even one so talented as Broll. Now that he was alerted to their presence, Anduin could hear them moving amongst the trees, and his heart began to pound as he realised there were at least half a dozen assailants closing in from all sides.

 _Move!_ he shouted inwardly.

Anduin forced his wooden legs into action, before looping his his arms beneath Auriana's shoulders and dragging her over to the shelter of a nearby tree, even as Broll leapt forward with teeth and claes flashing. She seemed to be still drowsy from the ritual, and he doubted that the arrow wound in her back was helping. Still, he knew she had shrugged off far more serious wounds in the past, and he wondered why she wasn't up and fighting.

"Auri?" he said uncertainly.

"Your Highness!" he heard someone shout, and he realised that Auriana's bodyguards had entered the fray.

He glanced up, and his mouth fell open as he beheld Broll, Crowther and Ridley besieged from all sides. It appeared his initial guess was something of an underestimation, as he saw more than a dozen assassins surging through the trees toward them. Broll and the two guards had formed a loose circle around Anduin and Auriana's position, attempting to protect them with both their weappons and their bodies, but Anduin was keenly aware that it would only take one stray arrow or a well placed knife to end his life.

"Get a portal open!" Ridley cried, gesturing frantically at Auriana as she ducked beneath a wild swing from an onrushing assassin. "Get out of here!"

"But you…" Anduin called back, only to be cut off by a fierce, commanding roar from Broll.

Although he didn't say a single word, the archdruid's message was clear, and Anduin reluctantly turned back to Auriana. He always hated knowing that the guards were willing to risk injury and death to protect him, but he also knew that he was helping no one by arguing.

"Auri, we have to move," he said urgently, shaking her gently by the shoulder. "Can you open a portal?"

"Anduin…" she gasped faintly, reaching up to knot her fingers desperately in the collar of of his shirt.

Auriana's face was contorted with pain, and strangely enough, she seemed to be having trouble speaking. Her eyes remained determinedly blue, instead of the burning white Anduin had come to associate with her magic, and he couldn't understand why she wasn't using her powers.

"Your Highness!" Ridley called again. "Leave!  _Please_!'

"There's… there's something wrong with her..." Anduin stammered, trying to fight down a rising sense of panic.

"Then forget a portal! Run!" Crowther grunted painfully. "We can't hold them forever!"

"I don't know if..."

Auriana suddenly screamed; the kind of savage, unhinged scream that made Anduin's heart seize and his hair stand on end. Her eyes blazed to life, and Anduin gasped as he felt an immense pressure surround him from all sides. He felt a jolt of powerful, unstable energy run up his spine, and the world abruptly twisted and collapsed all around him.

* * *

Anduin had been teleported many times in his life, but he had never experienced a translocation quite like  _that_. It was rough, almost painful, and it filled him with the unsettling sense that he was being torn apart from the inside. He did not land on his feet, either, instead finding himself ejected from the ether with surprising force. He saw dull grey all around him as he tumbled through the air, and he cried out in surprise as he was flung hard into the trunk of a nearby tree.

The force of the impact was enough to drive the air from his lungs, and it took several minutes of coughing and sputtering for him to regather his wits. He then looked around frantically for Auriana, and was shocked to see her about thirty yards away on her hands and knees, her entire body convulsing violently as she emptied the contents of her stomach on the grass.

"Auri!"

Ignoring the dull ache in his ribs, Anduin scrambled to his feet and rushed anxiously to her side. She was far too pale, even by her own standards, and Anduin could see blood dripping from her nose. His fingers twitched urgently in response, but he didn't dare try to heal her until he knew what was wrong.

"Auri?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, only to immediately scramble away from him with the wide-eyed look of a frightened animal.

"It's alright!" he cried, raising his hands defensively. "It's me, it's Anduin."

"Anduin?" she repeated, blinking dazedly. "Why do you... why do you look like that?"

"Why do I...  _what_?" he asked, nonplussed.

He glanced down at his hands and chest, expecting to see blood or some kind of grievous injury, but as far as he could tell, he looked entirely normal.

"You have... um... nevermind," she said, shaking her head violently as if to clear it from all thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Anduin said worriedly, cautiously moving towards Auriana and crouching down in front of her.

"I'm s-sorry," she stammered, staring up at him with dull, bloodshot eyes. "I know that was… rough."

"Where are we?" he wondered.

He glanced over his shoulder and looked around, and was surprised to see that they were sitting in the middle of a dark, gloomy forest. A heavy sense of impending doom hung in the air, and the looming trees made Anduin feel almost claustrophobic. On the other hand, the forest was at least still and silent, with no shouting assassins or the terrifying clash of steel on steel.

"Duskwood," Auriana mused, her gaze flicking briefly to the oppressive canopy above. "I think."

"Well, we're away from those assassins, at least?" Anduin said, trying to remain upbeat.

"I was aiming for Stormwind…" she muttered.

"Auri… what happened?" he asked, reaching out to place a supportive hand on her shoulder. "I know you've fought with worse injuries before. Not that I'm trying to be critical, mind, but…"

"The assassins were smart… they tipped the arrow… with magebane…" she explained, wincing with every small movement.

Anduin suddenly noticed that her eyes were also strangely unfocused, and she looked as if she were struggling to remain conscious. Concerned, he sent a strengthening burst of Light through his hand and into her body, but it seemed to make little difference.

"Magebane?" he repeated curiously. "I've never heard of it."

"It's… a poison. Made by the Kirin Tor," Auriana said haltingly, as she wiped the blood from her nose with the back of her hand. "It dampens a mage's powers. I used what magic I had left to get us here."

"Why would the Kirin Tor invent something like that?" Anduin wondered, surprised.

"To fight rogue mages," Auriana said bluntly.

Anduin wanted to know more, but he quickly decided now was not the best time to indulge his curiosity. Auriana was groaning quietly in pain, and her eyes abruptly moved to fixate on something in the air above Anduin's left shoulder.

"It's not just that," she added quietly. "I think the magebane… it's interacting with whatever Broll gave me. I'm… well, quite frankly, Anduin, I'm… er… intoxicated."

"What do you mean,  _intoxicated_?"

"I'm hallucinating," she explained. "I'm might need you to be my eyes and ears, to tell me what's real and what isn't."

"You're… seeing things?" Anduin realised. "Like what?"

"Well… for example, I'm fairly sure your third head isn't real, nor is the pink elekk on you left," she said, her eyes narrowing as she struggled to concentrate. "What I'm not sure about however, is the dragon."

"The dragon?"

"There's a large blue dragon standing behind you," Auriana said doubtfully. "He doesn't look happy."

Unable to help himself, Anduin glanced back over his shoulder, though of course there was nothing there save for the dim and eerie forest.

"I'm guessing you can't get us back to Stormwind, then," he surmised.

"No," Auriana said, shaking her head miserably. "Right now, I could barely light a candle."

"Then we'll have to make it back like normal people," Anduin said firmly.

"I  _hate_... being... normal," Aurinana wheezed.

It was a weak attempt at a joke, but Anduin smiled nonethless. He stood up and looked around, peering carefully hrough the dense foliage as he searched for anything that might help him get his bearings.

"North should be that way," he said finally. "I think. If we can get to Goldshire..."

"We can't go to Goldshire," Auriana interrupted quickly.

"What? Why not?"

"Think about it, Anduin," she said wearily. "If you were an assassin, where would you expect us to run?"

"Oh. Of course," Anduin said sheepishly. "They'd expect us to head toward the city, probably, or Goldshire, or perhaps one of the garrisons."

"Exactly," Auriana agreed. "We have to be unpredictable. The dragon is blocking the north road, in any case."

She frowned, clearly having trouble differentiating between the real and the imaginary, and Anduin fervently hoped that her hallucinations would not get any worse.

"Where to, then?" he asked, trying to keep her focused.

"I don't… it's getting dark. We need to find somewhere to hole up for the night," she suggested. "I'm in no condition to move, and we need to get this arrow out of my back quickly."

"You really think they're going to chase us out this far?" Anduin asked nervously.

"They're not going to stop until we're dead," Auriana growled angrily. "My teleport bought us a head start, but I don't doubt that we're being hunted."

As if her words had been prophetic, Anduin distinctly heard the sharp snap of a twig, and what sounded like muffled, angry voices. Auriana's head snapped toward the sound, and her eyes widened fearfully.

"Did you hear that, too?" she whispered. "Or did I imagine it?"

"No, I heard it," Anduin confirmed. "Maybe it's Broll, or one of your guards?"

"We can't take the risk that isn't," Auriana said, shaking her head. "We need to move."

She held her hands up toward Anduin, and he helped her clamber gracelessly to her feet. Out in the forest, the undergrowth cracked menacingly.

"Can you run?" Anduin asked urgently.

"Not fast."

"I… I could carry you," he suggested doubtfully.

"You might have to," Auriana said grimly.

"Alright," Anduin agreed reluctantly. "What am I looking for?"

"A cave. Well hidden," Auriana said shortly. "Narrow mouth, if possible."

Feeling incredibly uncomfortable, Anduin nodded and slipped one hand beneath Auriana's shoulders, and the other behind her knees. He lifted her even more easily than he expected, though she didn't seem impressed.

"No, no, throw me over your shoulder," she explained. "Like you'd carry a sack of grain."

"Really?"

"Trust me, it will be easier. You're fleeing from assassins, not carrying me over a threshold," she said drily.

"It seems… rough," he protested.

"I can take it," she assured him, with a determined nod. "Now please, Anduin. Stop arguing with me, and  _ru_ _n_."

* * *

Anduin ran until his legs gave out, doing his best not to jostle Auriana as he fled blindly through the Duskwood. She was small enough that she barely slowed him down, but he was nevertheless glad when he finally came across a suitable hiding place for the night. His arms ached from holding her securely on his shoulders, and they were shaking by the time he placed her carefully on the ground at the back of the cave.

As Auriana had suggested, he had zigzagged unpredictably through the woods, and run until he had found a small hideout nestled within a rocky hillside. It wasn't especially deep, but it was well hidden, and didn't seem to be home to any nasty wildlife. In addition to the restless undead and wild worgen that still roamed the darkness, Duskwood was also home to wolves, bears, and spiders the size of horses, and Anduin had no desire to have to fight  _any_  of them.

The back of the cave was pitch black, and Anduin had to conjure a small burst of the Light to his hand by which to see. It wasn't as good as a torch, or the little witchlights that he had seen Auriana use, but it would at least do for now. He crouched down by her side, and peered worriedly into her unusually dull eyes.

"We're going to need a fire," he told her. "I'm guessing you can't…?"

"No," she said quietly. "You're going to have do it the old-fashioned way, I'm afraid."

"Not a problem," Anduin said, trying to keep his tone light and reassuring. "If I go gather some wood, will you be alright?"

Auriana nodded vaguely, though her attention was firmly fixed on something invisible hovering back at the cave entrance. It seemed she was still seeing things, and Anduin vaguely wondered how long it would take for Broll's concoction to work its way out of her system.

"Be careful," she mumbled.

"Always," he assured her, smiling slightly as he stepped out into the darkness.

Anduin stayed within earshot of the cave as he quickly gathered an armful of firewood, cognisant as he was of leaving Auriana alone for too long. The night outside was dark and eerie, and every tree branch and every shadow looked like an assassin's arm reaching out to grab him by the throat. He found himself jumping at the slightest sounds, and his nerves were well and truly shot by the time he hurried back to Auriana's side.

Although Anduin would always choose an adventure in the library over one in the outdoors, Varian had ensured that his survival education was excellent. He could hunt, trap, and even build a shelter if necessary; and he knew at least three ways to start a fire. Admittedly, he had never expected to use his skills while hidden in a cave with his father's barely conscious consort, but he had a small fire burning within minutes nonetheless.

Anduin was careful to build the fire well toward the back of the cave so that it could not be seen from the outside, though he made sure it was large enough as to provide ample light. He was anxious to examine Auriana's wound, not least because he felt that  _doing_ something was the only way to keep his fear from spiralling out of control. He was trying to stay calm and think ahead, but in truth, he was terribly afraid. The last time he had been in such a situation, surrounded by enemies on all sides, he had been crushed beneath the Divine Bell. He had never regretted his decision to confront Garrosh Hellscream in Pandaria, despite everything that had happened, but it nevertheless been a stark reminder of his lack of physical prowess. While Anduin was confident in his skills in the Light, being hunted through the woods by a pack of assassins was more his father's speed. No doubt, by now Varian would have handily slaughtered every last one of them and carried Auriana triumphantly back to Stormwind without breaking a sweat, while Anduin was left hiding at the back of his cave as he desperately tried to think of a plan to save her life.

Auriana was slumped up against the wall where he had left her, every so often waving a hand in front of her face as if under attack by invisible bees. Her face was ashen, and Anduin could tell by her fast, shallow breathing that she was in immense pain.

"Still seeing things?" he said quietly, touching her gently on the leg.

"Mmm," she mumbled. "The fire… leaves strange shadows…"

"May I have a look at your wound?" Anduin asked. "You need healing."

Auriana flinched awkwardly at his words, blinking rapidly in the low light, but she nevertheless twisted her back so that he might inspect her shoulder more closely.

"Er… I'm going to have to cut through your shirt to get a better look, I'm sorry," Anduin told her. "Seems I've developed a bit of a habit of destroying your clothes."

"It isn't your fault I'm a magnet for trouble," Auriana said weakly, with a small smile. "I think there's still a knife strapped to my boot."

She extended her leg with a painful sigh, and Anduin reached down to unsheath the small blade from her ankle. He would have preferred to use scissors, but the knife was better than nothing, and he made quick work of Auriana's loose blouse. The white cloth was already soaked through with blood, and Anduin found himself struggling to keep his hands steady as cut around her wound and very carefully peeled the garment off her back.

"Is it bad?" she asked, shivering slightly as her upper body was exposed to the cool night air.

"The arrow wound is clean," Anduin said thoughtfully, "But I think that mage poison of yours is spreading."

The arrow had entered her back in the large muscle of her shoulder blade, and while it was not embedded too deeply, it had certainly done its job as a delivery mechanism for the magebane. Dark, spidery tendrils radiated out from the point of impact, staining Auriana's otherwise pale skin an inky black, and they had already spread so far as to cover almost her entire upper back.

"Can you get the arrow out?" Auriana groaned.

"I think so, but… I… um…" Anduin murmured bashfully, blushing as he realised that the placement of her undergarments was rather inconvenient for the task.

"What?"

"Auri… I think the arrow is barbed. I'm going to have to enlarge the wound to remove it without tearing through your back… which means I'm going to have to take off… your… uh…" Anduin stammered, cursing himself under his breath as he felt his ears began to burn.

Auriana glanced back at him, evidently confused; only for her eyes to widen as she grasped his meaning.

"It's a brassiere, Anduin, it isn't going to bite," she muttered roughly, though the way she quickly looked away suggested she was just as embarrassed as he.

"Right, of course not," he murmured. "Er… how do you…?"

"You've never…?"

"No," Anduin admitted awkwardly. "It's never really come up."

"Oh… well… put a hand on the straps either side of the clasp, push them slightly together," Auriana instructed, the back of her neck reddening as she spoke. "Yes, good, then slide the hook free of the eyelet…"

"Like this?" Anduin asked.

"No... ow... you're pinching me…"

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, forcibly willing his shaking fingers to still as he finally managed to unhook the clasp.

"Well done," Auriana said quietly. "Now slide the straps off my shoulders…"

Anduin did as he was bidden, careful not to jostle her wounded shoulder, and looked pointedly up at the cave ceiling as Auriana gathered what remained of her shirt and pressed it firmly against her breast with her good hand. He was very aware of the fact that she was practically naked, and he found it difficult to keep his mind on his healing work. It wasn't that he desired her, of course, but more that there was something mortifying about seeing the woman who might one day become his stepmother in such a state of undress. There was also no doubt in Anduin's mind that his father was the jealous type, and he couldn't help but to imagine Varian huffing about in a possessive rage at the thought of another man touching his woman.

 _It's just Auri,_ Anduin reminded himself firmly, doing his best to stay focused and professional.  _She's not thinking about that sort of thing. She just needs healing._

"Ah… I'm going to enlarge the wound now," he warned her, reaching once more for the knife.

He also tore a strip from the lower hem of his shirt so that he would be ready to stem the bleeding, and grit his teeth. Auriana's hands balled into tight fists, but she nevertheless nodded her permission, and as Anduin slowly slid the point of the knife into her flesh, he forgot all about her near nakedness and his embarrassment.

Auriana let out a long, slow moan as Anduin made the first cut, and her warm, fresh blood spilled out over his hands. He quickly moved to staunch the bleeding with his makeshift gauze, and he cut until he was certain he could extract the arrow without opening a ragged tear in her back. As he had suspected, the projectile was barbed so as to prevent easy removal, but with some nerve-wracking, patient twisting, he finally pulled it free.

Anduin dropped the bloody arrow to the floor, and immediately called on the powers of the Light to close the gaping wound. As he suspected, healing the wound itself was easy, but his powers did little to affect the insidious magebane. He had healed minor poisons before, but this particular blight seemed entirely resistant to the Light, and he gave himself a bloody nose trying to halt its spread before he finally gave up.

Auriana groaned as he pulled away, and her frantic breathing gradually slowed to a more normal pace. She twisted slightly to face Anduin, and gave him a tired but grateful smile as she pulled the tatters of her tunic further up her chest.

"Is it going to kill you?" he asked quietly. "The magebane, I mean. It didn't respond to my healing."

"Eventually, if it isn't treated," she admitted slowly. "Though there's an antidote in Dalaran."

She sighed.

"If it's any consolation, we'll probably be killed by assassins long before then."

"Come on, Auri, think positively," Anduin urged her; though if he were being honest, he quietly agreed with her assessment.

"I can't defend us. I can barely walk," she muttered bitterly. "And I keep seeing… things."

She shivered, though whether because of cold or fright from the hallucinations, Anduin didn't know. He then abruptly remembered that she was still half undressed, and he quickly shrugged out of his overcoat.

"Here," he said. "Put this on."

Anduin helped to support Auriana's injured shoulder as she slipped her arms into the sleeves, and with much awkward blushing and wriggling, together they finally succeeded in getting her dressed. He was not as large a man as his father, but even then, the coat was many sizes too large for Auriana, and she looked like she was swimming in fabric. Still, an oversized coat was better than  _nothing_ , and he was glad when he was finally able to look her in the eye once more without feeling as if he would die from embarassment.

"You should get some rest," he suggested, leaning back against the wall and beckoning for her to join him.

He had successfully closed Auriana's arrow wound and stopped her bleeding, but every good healer knew that sleep held a magic all its own. In such a dire situation, Anduin would take any advantage he could get, and he intended to use her body's natural healing processes to bolster his own work. Auriana, however, looked skeptical, and it was only with great reluctance that she finally maneuvered herself into position at his side.

"Alright…" she agreed. "But you mustn't let me sleep too long. A couple of hours, at most."

"It will help, I promise. You  _need_ to sleep," Anduin admonished her.

"As do you," she countered quickly. "You'll have to do most of the heaving lifting if we're going to survive this, you need to be rested."

"But you hardly weigh anything…" Anduin said quietly, hoping the weak joke would make her laugh.

He wasn't so lucky, though he did earn himself a small, lopsided smile and the barest hint of of a chuckle as Auriana curled into his side. She was even smaller up close, and Anduin was surprised at how delicate she felt as he carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He had briefly hugged her once or twice, but having her curled up against him served as a stark reminder of how little she really was. Her powers had always made her seem bigger, somehow, and without them she simply looked diminished; her dark blue eyes haunted as she stared long into the quietly crackling fire.

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly.

"What do you mean?" Anduin asked, shifting behind her slightly as he tried to get comfortable.

"This is all my fault. We were out here because of me, because I couldn't just tell Varian how I felt…" she whispered. "I thought this awful business was all over… and now..."

Her voice cracked with emotion, and she turned her head sadly into Anduin's chest. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, he reached over to clumsily stroke her hair, though he had no idea whether such a gesture would bring her comfort.

"I'm going to protect you, Auri," he said seriously. "We're not going to die out here."

"Anduin… promise me something," she mumbled, her words slightly muffled by his chest.

"Anything."

"If you have to choose between my life and yours… if you have an opportunity to run, and get to safety… you leave me, you understand?" she implored him.

"N-no," he stammered, aghast that she would even ask such a thing. "Auri, I could never forgive myself…."

"And I could never look your father in the eye again if I got you killed," she said fiercely. " _Promise me_."

She tilted her head back so that she might look him in the eye, and her gaze was as sharp and as focused as Anduin had ever seen. The movement was clearly difficult, but it seemed that she was willing endure any pain if it meant convincing Anduin of her sincerity, and he found he couldn't possibly deny her.

"I-I promise…"

"Thank you," she sighed gratefully. "Oh… and if I die out here…"

"I will  _not_  let that happen!" Anduin growled determinedly.

"I know," she said quietly, "But… just in case… tell your father… tell your father I would have said yes…"

As she spoke, she took a deep breath and leaned back into the crook of Anduin's arm once more. Her breathing gradually slowed, and within mere minutes she had fallen into a deep if fitful sleep; her pale brow creased worriedly even as she dreamed.

 _I am not giving up on you, Auri. I will get you home safely,_  Anduin swore silently; but as he gathered her close against his chest and settled back against the cave all, he realised had no idea how he was going to keep that promise.


	20. Varian

Varian sat alone in his study, staring pensively into a glass of amber whiskey. It was perhaps an hour after sundown, and he was very much alone. A maidservant had been by to light the fires in his study and in his bed chamber, though he had not seen another person since. He  _had_  been expecting Auriana, given that she had promised him an answer to his all-important question, but she was nowhere to be found. Despite his best efforts to stay positive, he began to wonder if she'd simply run away, and his thoughts grew darker with every passing minute.

If Auriana had fled, it wouldn't have been unprecedented. Varian remembered all too well the morning after the first time they had slept together, when she had vanished before he had even had the chance to wake. She had avoided him for days, and had only returned to Stormwind after he had given her an official order as her King. He wanted to believe that she had grown since then, that she was no longer the flighty and overcautious woman that she had been when they had first met, but he found it difficult to come to any other conclusion. He didn't doubt that she loved him, though he couldn't help but to wonder if her fear of being Queen of Stormwind was stronger than her desire to be his wife.

He was roused from his brooding inattention by a sudden frantic banging at his outer door, and he glanced up from his glass for the first time in at least an hour.

"Go away!" he grumbled.

Not the most diplomatic response, perhaps, but he'd never been an especially diplomatic king.

"Your Majesty!" someone called. "Please – it's urgent…"

Varian sighed in irritation, though admittedly his guards were well trained, and would not press him unless the situation truly required his attention.

"Hmph," he grunted testily to himself, then added more loudly, "Come!"

He stood up as the door to his study opened, and he let out a small grunt of surprise as Broll stumbled awkwardly into the room, dazedly suspended between two Keep guards.

" _Broll?_ " he gasped, immediately rushing forward to aid his friend.

Varian counted four arrows protruding from Broll's back and one of his thighs, and a nasty slash wound that crossed from his left shoulder to his right ribcage. His golden eyes were wild, and he all but collapsed in a heap against Varian's leather chaise.

"Send for a healer!" Varian barked to the guards, as he stared down at his friend in shock. "What the hell happened to you? Did you walk through the entire  _Keep_ like that?"

"Had to find you," Broll panted, seemingly ignorant of his own wounds as he craned his neck to look down the hallway that joined Varian's private study to his bedchamber. "Auriana… where… is she?

"Auriana?" Varian repeated, nonplussed. "I have no idea. I haven't seen her since this morning."

"She isn't  _here_?" Broll said urgently. "She didn't come back?  _Where is Anduin_?"

A slow, insidious fear uncoiled in the depths of Varian's stomach, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe.

" _Broll_?" he whispered chillingly, "What do you mean, 'where is Anduin?'"

Broll opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by a second commotion outside. Both he and Varian turned to face the study door, and a moment later a bloody and red-faced Lana Ridley staggered inside.

"Are they here?" she asked Broll, her dark eyes darting frantically about the room.

"No," Broll groaned. "Something must have gone wrong... Anduin was right... Auriana... was compromised..."

He hissed in pain, and seemed to be struggling to stay conscious.

"Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" Varian shouted, the strength of his voice making Ridley start.

"C-Crowther and I were asked to escort the Archdruid, the Prince, and Lady Auriana into Elwynn Forest," she said shakily, glancing sidelong at Broll. "While there, we were ambushed by a pack of assassins. Auriana... Auriana was shot. Whatever they hit her with, it seemed to be affecting her magic... I could have sworn I saw her teleport, but..."

"I saw it, too," Broll confirmed. "But they are not here... I do not know what happened."

"She was shot!" Varian snarled, his heart thundering painfully against his ribs. "How exactly do you expect her to do  _anything_  after being  _shot_?"

"She was hit in the back," Broll explained painfully. "I am certain her wound wasn't bad enough to prevent her from fighting. Something else is going on here."

The Archdruid's voice was unnaturally soft, as if coming from a long way away, and it took Varian a few moments to realise that all sound in the room had been dulled by the terrible roaring of blood in his ears. His entire chest felt tight, as if he were being crushed by a great vice, and a furious red haze descended upon his vision. He wanted to curse, to scream, to  _howl_  his fury to the sky, but instead he chose to ask the only question he could think of that wouldn't inevitably break his heart in the answering.

"Where's Crowther?"

"Dead," Ridley choked, her dark eyes filling with tears. "She gave her life so we could escape..."

Ridley was an experienced soldier, and not normally one prone to such open displays of emotion, but the two women had worked together for a long time, and it must have cost her greatly to have lost such a long-time partner. Varian had no idea what to say to offer her comfort, especially given that he was struggling mightily with his own surging emotions, and was fortunately relieved of the necessity by the sudden arrival of the healer.

Varian vaguely recognised the young priest as the woman who had worked under High Priestess Laurena to heal Auriana after her torture in Blackrock Foundry, but he couldn't for the life of him recall her name. Still, he remembered that she was both efficient and dedicated, and despite everything, he  _was_  glad that Broll would be treated by the best. He was already facing the possibility of his entire  _world_ collapsing, and no matter how angry he might have been, he did not want to contemplate losing one of his only close friends.

Nevertheless, Varian stewed in silence as he watched the healer work, his mind racing as he imagined every terrible fate that might possibly have befallen Anduin and Auriana. He wanted to be out there right  _now_ , tearing apart every inch of Elwynn Forest to find them, but even in the depths of his rage he knew that such an act would likely be precipitous. Broll was barely lucid, and Varian reluctantly decided that it was best to let the healer do her work before he probed for more information. With great effort, he forced himself to turn away, moving instead to pace anxiously back and forth around the outside of his study. His body was visibly shaking with suppressed energy, and it took every last ounce of control that he possessed to stay within the confines of his room.

Fortunately, the healer worked quickly, and managed to remove the three arrows from Broll's back with little effort. Varian watched out of the corner of his eye as the young priest carefully placed the bolts down on the ground beside her, and he was surprised to see that they were not covered in blood, as he might have expected, but rather with a viscous black substance that reminded Varian strongly of tar. His curiosity roused, he grabbed an arrow and sniffed it cautiously; recoiling in distaste from the acrid, burning scent that assaulted his nostrils.

"The arrows were tipped," Varian realised grimly, waving the offending projectile in Broll's direction. "With... whatever this is..."

"That might explain why Auriana was unable to use her powers," Broll reasoned, leaning back against the chaise with a sigh as the healer turned her attention to his leg. "Though I've never heard of a poison that could do such a thing."

"Did it affect you?"

"No... but druidic magic works differently to arcane magic," Broll said slowly. "This is beyond me, I'm afraid. You may need to consult the Kirin Tor."

"What I  _need_ to do is get to Goldshire and start searching," Varian insisted, his desperate desire to act slowly eroding his cooler head.

"Varian…" Broll cautioned wearily, "I have no idea where they are. If Auriana didn't come here… if her powers were affected… they could be anywhere."

"If you have nothing useful to offer, Broll, I suggest you stay silent," Varian growled warningly.

"Whoever did this came prepared to stop  _her_ , specifically," Broll continued, seemingly undeterred by the heat in Varian's voice. "There's no point  _leaving_  until you have more information, or some means by which to find her. It would be wise to defer to those with greater magical knowledge. Khadgar, perhaps, or Jaina."

"Bah!" Varian snarled, though he could grudgingly appreciate the wisdom in Broll's argument. "Ridley - are you injured?"

"Nothing serious, Your Majesty," she said, attempting to surreptitiously wipe the tears from her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. "What would you have me do?"

Her tone was ever so slightly pleading, and Varian realised that she needed something,  _anything_ to do that might take her mind of her fallen friend. He knew the feeling all too well, and his rigid, angry expression softened slightly as he guided her to the the door.

"I need you to go to Dalaran and fetch Jaina Proudmoore," he instructed quietly. "Bring her to me immediately. One of the Keep mages will port you."

"Of course, sire," Ridley said, nodding swiftly, "But what if she is not in Dalaran?"

"Then find her elsewhere," Varian glowered, the intensity of his gaze making her cower ever so slightly before him. "I don't care what you have to do. Bring her to me."

Ridley saluted crisply, though she seemed immensely grateful for an excuse to leave the room. She disappeared into the hallway a little  _too_  quickly, the clack of her boots echoing hollowly back down the corridor as she left Varian's chambers behind.

What followed was the longest half an hour of Varian's life, as he waited anxiously for Jaina to make an appearance. It felt as if he had been pacing for days, and his muscles actually began to ache from tension. He could feel Broll's eyes on his back as he walked, but he could not bring himself to look the Archdruid in the eye. The dark, seething part of his soul wanted to blame Broll for this calamity; wanted to blame Ridley, or Mathias Shaw, or  _anyone_ save for for the person he ultimately held responsible - himself.

 _I never should have let them out of my sight,_ he thought bitterly, as the part of him that was still Lo'Gosh simultaneously bayed for blood.  _I never should have believed it was over…_

The door to his study opened for the third time that day, and Varian paused his incessant pacing as Jaina Proudmoore stepped over his threshold. He distantly noted that Ridley had not accompanied Jaina into Varian's inner apartments, but he was far too preoccupied to really care. His attention was firmly fixed on Jaina, who looked rather displeased to have been roused from whatever it was she did with her evenings. Her pale hair and elegant dress were both unusually unkempt, and she was perspiring lightly, as if Ridley had dragged her through the Keep at a run.

"Varian? What is going on?" she inquired, her expression torn halfway been confusion and annoyance. "Your guard there was…. less than polite. You had better have a damn good reason for…"

"Anduin is missing," Varian said flatly. "Along with Auriana. They are being hunted by assassins and I have absolutely no idea where they are."

Jaina's mouth fell open.

"Good enough," she stammered, her bright blue eyes going wide. "What  _happened_? Why wouldn't Auriana simply teleport the two of them home?"

"She was shot. I think the arrows were tipped with something, but it's not a poison I'm familiar with," Varian explained darkly. "That's why I summoned you."

He held out the tipped arrow towards her, and Jaina instinctively flinched away.

"Magebane," she hissed vehemently, her eyes narrowing. "Where did you get that?"

"You know what this is?" Broll asked.

"Of course I do. We invented it," Jaina explained. "'We' meaning the Kirin Tor."

"What does it do?"

"It temporarily prevents a mage from accessing their powers," Jaina explained grimly. "Whoever went after Auriana knew what they were doing. She would have been incapacitated within minutes."

Varian leaned back against the cool stone of his study wall as Broll and Jaina talked, folding his arms across his chest and clenching his fists achingly tight. A dagger sharp tension headache was now pounding behind his left eye, and he was grinding his teeth so loudly that he was sure the guards outside could hear. He tried to follow the discussion as best he could, but he found it difficult to resist the lure of his own dark imaginings. Auriana was tough, especially for her a woman of her size, but she had been  _shot_ , and Light knew where she was or how many assassins were now chasing her. As for Anduin, he was not unskilled, but he was not battle hardened, and Varian greatly feared what might happen if his son were left to fend for himself alone and unarmed...

With a start, Varian realised that his increasingly grim thoughts were beginning to spiral out of control, and he snarled inwardly to himself as he forced his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"The poison didn't affect me," Broll was saying, as the healer moved to tend to the brutal wound in his chest. "At least, not in any way that I noticed. Certainly, I was able to shapeshift without difficulty."

"Well, mages and druids use different means to work their magics," Jaina confirmed thoughtfully. "Magebane alters the natural aetheric frequency of a spellcaster's body to temporarily disrupt their ability to draw on the arcane. Druids instead draw on the power of the Dream, so they wouldn't..."

"Dammit, Jaina," Varian snapped, interrupting the conversation before she became entirely distracted. "I did not call you here because I wanted a magical theory lesson!"

He didn't care one whit for Jaina's academic ramblings, nor whether  _this_ spell or  _that_  spell was druidic or arcane. He didn't need to know how, or why; he needed only to know that Auriana was without her powers - and was therefore incredibly vulnerable.

"I apologise," Jaina said quickly, addressing him with the same gentle monotone one would use on a wild beast. "The point is, it is designed to only affect mages."

"Why would you  _make_ something like that?" Varian asked disbelievingly, as he pushed himself roughly off the wall and stood to his full height once more.

"Who better to hunt rogue mages than the Kirin Tor?" Jaina countered patiently. "We are responsible for those of our order who go astray. Magebane was intended to provide a means of disabling mages before they could be transferred to more permanent means of control, such as arcane shackles or an arcane prison."

She sighed.

"Such methods generally require defeating another mage in combat before they can be effectively used," she elaborated. "Magebane, on the other hand, could be delivered by arrow, or dropped in someone's food. We wanted to find a way to capture dangerous mages without engaging in destructive magical conflict."

What she was saying was completely reasonable, of course, but Varian had never despised the Kirin Tor more than he did in that moment. A great growl rippled through his chest, and he resumed his predatory, wolfish prowling around the outside of the room.

"Who can make it?" Broll asked Jaina, though his eyes stayed firmly fixed on Varian. "Is it a common substance?"

"No," Jaina said swiftly, shaking her head. "Any fully initiated magus could access the recipe, but the poison itself is fiendishly difficult to make. I will check our stores – it is more likely that a vial was stolen, rather than made."

"So, you have a traitor within Dalaran," Varian concluded angrily. "Someone who intended to hurt Auriana and Anduin."

Jaina's spine went rigid at the mention of traitors within Dalaran, and Varian knew she was thinking of the Purge.

"Not necessarily. Whoever stole it may have had no idea how it would be used. It wouldn't be the first time something like this wound up on the black market," she said slowly, though it seemed to Varian as if she were not entirely convinced by her own argument.

"Oh, so someone sold my son out for profit! Much better!"

"Varian…" Broll murmured, trailing off painfully as the healer continued to probe the wound in his chest.

The young priest looked supremely uncomfortable to be in the middle of a heated argument between the King of Stormwind, an Archdruid of the Cenarion Circle, and the Archmage of the Kirin Tor, but she kept her hands busy and her eyes firmly trained on her work.

"Will the magebane kill her?" Varian asked grimly, pointedly ignoring Broll's quiet plea.

Jaina considered the question thoughtfully, but she suddenly seemed unwilling to look him in the eye.

"Eventually," she said quietly.

"How long?"

"It's hard to say, I…"

" _How long_?" Varian demanded.

"Four or five days, perhaps," Jaina whispered, her lips pursing unhappily. "Though the lethality is a side effect, it was never intended that anyone would be affected by the magebane longer than the time it would take them to get back to Dalaran and into permanent restraints."

"So, you have some sort of antidote?" Broll reasoned.

"I do. I'll send for it right away, of course," Jaina said quickly. "I assure you, Varian, we will be ready to treat Auriana the moment she returns."

" _If_  she returns," Varian countered bitterly. "Why would you  _create_ a poison like that? Is that what Auriana's death will be to you? A  _side effect_?"

A strange, unreadable expression crossed Jaina's face, and she silently turned her back on Varian and Broll so that she might gaze out the window. His harsh words were undoubtedly upsetting, and ordinarily he might have at least  _tried_  to be a bit more delicate, but right now Jaina Proudmoore's feelings were just about the last thing on his mind.

"This isn't her fault, Varian," Broll said wearily, his golden eyes unusually dull.

"No, it's yours!" Varian bellowed, glowering fiercely down at his wounded friend. "What the hell were you doing out in Elwynn Forest? After everything that's happened? You know it isn't safe!"

"If you must know, I was trying to convince Auriana to accept your proposal," Broll explained.

Despite her best efforts to remain impartial, the word 'proposal' clearly caught the healer's attention, and her hand slipped awkwardly as she did her best look like she wasn't listening. Jaina's interest was similarly roused, and she spun away from the window with her pale blonde eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

"Hold on a minute," she said, raising a slender white hand. "Proposal? What is he talking about?"

"I asked Auriana to marry me," Varian grunted. "She didn't say yes."

"She turned you down?" Jaina gasped, disbelief written in every line of her face. " _Really_? I would have thought…"

Varian gave her his most impressive glare, and she instantly fell silent, her ears burning an awkward bright red.

"Now is hardly the time for gossip," he said coldly.

"Sorry," she murmbled.

"She didn't say no, either. She was supposed to give me an answer tonight," Varian added sorely, with a long sigh. "As you can see… that's worked out spectacularly well."

"That's why we went to Elwynn," Broll explained. "She was uncertain. I offered her my assistance…"

"By parading her around in front of assassins? With my  _son_?" Varian snapped, abruptly striding forward so that he and Broll were barely a foot apart. "You may as well have killed them yourself!"

The priestess started at Varian's sudden close proximity, and the her magic faltered briefly as she flinched away from his fury. For his part, Broll did not move, though his expression grew even more miserable as he stared up into Varian's pitiless blue eyes.

"I am sorry, my friend… Auriana insisted that only a minimal guard was necessary," he said heavily, his breathing rough and laboured. "No one knew where we were going… I didn't think…"

"No," Varian said coldly. "You didn't."

He wasn't being fair, and he knew it, but the words spilled in a cruel torrent from his mouth before he could stop them. Broll bowed his antlered head in contrition then, guilt written across every line of his timeless face, and he could not have looked more hurt than if Varian had hit him. The poor healer was still trembling like a frightened deer, and Varian forced himself to turn his back on both of them. Fear was spreading through his veins like poison, and he was certain that it was only a matter of time before he completely lost control.

Varian grunted an awkward apology, before stalking furiously off towards his bedchamber. He made a beeline for his weapons chest and withdrew Shalamayne, carefully thumbing the edge of the great blade to test its sharpness. He would head to Goldshire, he reasoned, with a full company of guardsmen, and send out search parties in all directions. From what Broll had said, Auriana had at least attempted to cast a teleport, and given her incapacitation, it seemed reasonable that she and Anduin must be somewhere nearby. He was no magical expert, of course, but…

"You're being too hard on Broll," a soft voice said from the doorway, interrupting his racing thoughts.

Varian glanced up, and saw Jaina resting against the door frame with her arms folded across her chest. Her expression was sharp, though there was a cool compassion shining behind her crystal blue eyes.

"Go away, Jaina," he sighed. "I'm not in the mood."

"Someone needs to call you out when you're being irrational and unreasonable," she argued levelly.

"And I suppose you couldn't  _wait_  to volunteer for the position?"

"You need your friends right now," she pressed, pointedly ignoring his sarcasm. "Broll only wants to help. As do I."

"What I  _need_ is Anduin and Auriana returned to me!" Varian snarled. "Just… go away."

"You shouldn't be alone right now," Jaina insisted, her tone softening.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, Jaina, don't fret," Varian muttered, glaring back at her over his shoulder.

"Ah. I suppose that's why you're planning on charging out into Elwynn Forest in the middle of the night with no plan," Jaina said, nodding suggestively at the monstrous greatsword Varian gripped between white-knuckled fingers.

"What do the hell do you expect me to do?" Varian roared, rounding on her with furious intent. "I can't leave them to die, Jaina!"

Shalamayne was still in his hand as he turned, and he belatedly realised that he must have looked truly terrifying. To her credit, Jaina did not flinch, though he distinctly heard her breath hitch in fear, and he hastily lowered the sword to his side.

"I understand that you're a warrior," she said levelly, clearly struggling to keep her voice low and calm. "It's in your nature to act, to fight. But you're not thinking straight."

"You would have me do  _nothing_?" he snapped, thrusting a finger viciously in her face. "My  _son_  is missing, you understand, my only son. Do you not care for his safety? Or Auriana's?"

"That isn't fair," Jaina said flatly, her cheeks flushing unhappily. "You know I consider Anduin my family. And while I am not as close to Auriana, I certainly don't want her to  _die_."

"But you do," Varian rambled, his fear and fury shattering what remained of his better judgement. "You told me a long time ago that you were prepared to kill her if necessary. That poison went missing from  _your_  city. How I do I know that you aren't responsible in some way? She's more powerful than you are, you're jealous, you want her gone…"

His vicious tirade was hardly warranted, or even remotely  _true_ , but he couldn't help himself as every last awful emotion he had ever felt came pouring out. He could scarcely believe that he had been put in this position  _again_ , facing both betrayal and magical treachery from within the very heart of his own kingdom, and the very real possibility of losing his entire family in one fell swoop.

_Again._

"Varian!" Jaina shouted, wincing painfully at the sheer anger of his accusation. "Enough!"

She stood up straighter and raised her chin determinedly; never even blinking as she stared him down. It was clear that she was upset, and Varian knew she would be well within her rights to walk out on him. For some unfathomable reason, however, she had apparently decided to stay, and she gazed up at him not with anger, but with pity.

"How long have we been friends, Varian? I would  _never_  hurt someone you love," she implored him, looking ever so slightly offended that he would think so little of her. "You're not helping anyone by giving in to your anger. I need you to calm down.  _Please._ "

She was right, of course, but Varian desperately needed an outlet for his surging emotions, and she was unfortunate enough to be in the way.

"Bah!"

He snarled and turned away again, narrowly resisting the urge to drive his fist into the wall. Instead, he settled for pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fist around Shalamayne's hilt as he all but wore a hole in the stonework.

"How could Auriana be so  _stupid_?" he muttered, his chest heaving. "And why on earth did Anduin go with her?!"

"You know exactly why he went with her," Jaina said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do I?"

"He wants to you to be happy," she murmured gently. "He went to make sure she said yes."

"You can't possibly know that," Varian muttered.

"I know Anduin very well. And I know  _you_  very well," Jaina reminded him. "Ever since Auriana came into your life, you've been happier than I've ever seen you. No doubt your son noticed the very same thing."

She was right,  _again_ , though the thought did little to bring Varian comfort. It was exactly the sort of thing that his kind, earnest son would do, and it now seemed as if that kindness would cost him his life. Varian sighed, and placed Shalamayne carefully back atop his weapons chest with a rueful shake of his head.

"It's all my fault," he whispered darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm cursed," he explained bitterly. "I'm quite obviously not meant to have a wife."

He had never had an optimistic personality, even before losing Tiffin or being split in half by Onyxia's magic, and he felt the all-too-familiar shroud of depression settle over his shoulders.

"Varian…" Jaina sighed compassionately. "You know that isn't true…"

Although Varian's back was turned, he could perfectly picture the concern on the Archmage's face; the slight wrinkles creasing her forehead and the anxious downward quirk of her lips.

"She didn't want to be with me, you know," he added quietly, only half-listening to Jaina's words. "Auriana. She resisted, at first, insisted that it would be a mistake for us to be together. Perhaps she was right."

"You can't possibly believe that!" Jaina exclaimed.

"I don't know. Maybe I do," Varian whispered miserably. "She's under threat because of me. If she had chosen another man…"

"Then she wouldn't be nearly as happy," Jaina countered firmly. "I don't know her especially well on a personal level, but I  _have_ known her for a long time. I've never seen her like she is with you."

"I should have listened to her," he muttered. "I should have stayed away. Sometimes I worry if…"

"If?"

"If I pressured her into it. I know I have a… forceful personality," he admitted painfully. "What if she only accepted me because I wore her down? Or worse, because I'm her king?"

Varian heard a rustle of skirts as Jaina moved, and he looked back to see her taking a seat on his bed. Her expression was pensive, and she seemed to be thinking very hard about her next words.

"Did I ever tell you how I first met Auriana?" she said finally, patting the bed beside her.

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything…"

"Just listen, Varian," Jaina sighed. "Come. Sit."

"I'd prefer to stand, if it's all the same to you," Varian grouched, though he found himself reluctantly intrigued.

"Suit yourself," she said, shrugging her delicate shoulders. "In any case, it was a few months after I had founded Theramore. The city was still in its infancy, but it was growing rapidly. There were the usual problems of running a city, of course – encroaching wildlife, building costs, that sort of thing – but there was one little mystery that really had me stumped."

Her face grew wistful at the mention of her lost city, but she squared her shoulders and continued.

"I used to go for long walks through the city, and I noticed that there was some sort of magical anomaly in the eastern quarter," she added. "I tested every theory I could think of – corrupted ley lines, lost elementals, mana remnants… but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it was."

A slight crinkle appeared between Jaina's eyebrows, and Varian recognised it as the look she always wore when she was concentrating on one magical conundrum or another. For all Jaina had been an Admiral's daughter, a ruler of Theramore, and military leader, at heart he knew she was a scholar, and would have preferred nothing more than to disappear into the comfort of a library and learn for the rest of her days.

"In any case," she continued, "I was out for a walk one day, when I came across a small group of children at the docks. At first, I thought they were playing, but I soon realised that a few older boys were trying to bully some of the younger children. The leader of the bullies was the blacksmith's son – he was very large for his age, and often used his size to intimidate others."

"Jaina…" Varian grumbled warningly, rapidly running out of patience for her lengthy story.

"I'm getting there," she said calmly, unfazed by his glare. "This time, the bully was trying to convince a little girl to hand over her toy – or perhaps it was a sweet, I can't remember. He was used to getting his way, but she was having none of it."

"Auriana?" Varian asked.

"She was about eleven at the time, but she looked much younger," Jaina confirmed, smiling. "She was a tiny little slip of a thing, all spindly legs and knobbly knees. She looked like the last child in Theramore who could stand up to the blacksmith's boy, but there she was, staring up at him with those enormous blue eyes."

"You didn't intervene?"

"No. I would have, but… I wasn't needed," Jaina recalled. "The bully made a move on Auriana, trying to snatch her toy from her arms. She had been silent until that point, but he'd crossed a line. She screamed, once, just a single word.  _No._  I suddenly felt magic all around, and the blacksmith's boy disappeared."

"She  _killed_  him?" Varian exclaimed, alarmed.

"No! Fortunately, it was nothing quite so serious," Jaina assured him. "She teleported him north of the city. Dropped him in the middle of a swamp. We fished him out later that day."

Despite himself, Varian felt an odd surge of pride in Auriana's abilities, and he snorted in reluctant amusement.

"I realised then why I had felt strange every time I was in the eastern part of the city – I was walking past  _her_  house," Jaina explained. "Young mages have absolutely idea how to control their powers when they come into them for the first time, and Auriana was so strong that she was practically leaking magic. I had her sent off to Dalaran within a week."

"That's a sweet story, Jaina," Varian conceded, "But I still don't understand why it's relevant."

"Auriana has always been stubborn," Jaina elaborated. "Even as a child, she refused to be pushed around. She teleported that blacksmith's boy  _five miles_   _away_  - something no eleven-year-old should have been able to do. I have third year apprentices who can barely construct the foundation of a portal matrix, let alone successfully transport and reintegrate an entire human being."

"And?"

" _And_ … my point is, there is not a person alive who could make her do something that she didn't want to do. Not then, not now… and not even you," Jaina concluded gently. "She  _chose_  you, just as much as you chose her. You didn't force her to do anything."

Varian turned to stare into the fire, more to avoid looking Jaina in the eye than anything else. He could see now why she had told the story, and could even appreciate that she had tried, but if anything, it only served to worsen the dull ache in his heart. He wanted Auriana in his arms, wanted her  _now_ ; and there was nothing he wouldn't do to bring her and Anduin home.

"You're trying to distract me," he muttered. "Calm me."

"Did it work?" Jaina said hopefully.

"Some," he admitted.

While white-hot adrenaline continued to pump fiercely through Varian's veins, he no longer felt quite as much of a slave to his rage. He was still angry, certainly, and terribly afraid for the lives of the two people that meant more to him than anything else in the world, but the red haze that clouded his rational mind had slowly begun to fade. He was not the man he had once been, and he had learned to channel his fury into focus, and a single-minded determination to protect the people he loved.

"Better than nothing, I suppose," Jaina reasoned practically. "Now. What do you intend to do?"

"What do you think I intend to do? I can't stay here. I can't do  _nothing_. It isn't who I am," he rumbled. "I have to be out there, searching."

Varian heard his bed creak softly as Jaina rose, and a second later she appeared at his side. He noted that she still stood ever so slightly back, as if afraid to get too close, and he forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. He knew that he was an intimidating man, even when he was not in a rage, though he hoped Jaina understood that he would never harm her.

"I hate to be the one to point this out, but has it occurred to you that you might be a target?" she said slowly, linking her hands thoughtfully behind her back. "Perhaps this an attempt to draw  _you_  out… to assassinate  _you_."

"And if it is?

"Need I remind you that you're the High King of the Alliance?" she pressed urgently. "There may be larger concerns at stake."

"My son's life is my  _only_  concern! I won't leave him!" Varian thundered, the dark urgency in his voice making Jaina wince. "And Auriana… Light, Jaina, I can't live without her… I'm not… I'm not  _strong_  enough..."

His voice almost broke, and he covered the lapse with an abrupt, throaty cough. Jaina watched him carefully, her expression dark and worried as she stared up at him with a heavy frown.

"For once in my life, I need to be man, and not a king," he muttered lowly. "Please. Allow me that much."

Jaina closed her eyes painfully, and she reached out to place a tentative hand on Varian's shoulder.

"Well, then. I suppose we'd best get to Goldshire," she concluded finally.

"You're coming with me?" Varian asked skeptically.

"I know I'm not the mage you want, but Anduin is my family too," Jaina reminded him. "And someone has to watch your back. I'll collect the magebane antidote from Dalaran and meet you in Goldshire. We'll find them together."

She walked over to Varian's weapons chest and withdrew Shalamayne once more. She struggled slightly with the greatsword's length, but her jaw tightened in quiet determination as she held it out toward him.

"Do you have any way to tell where they might have gone? Some sort of spell?" Varian asked. "Auriana managed to go  _somewhere_ , but if she didn't come here…"

"I might have something," Jaina said slowly, "But the work is difficult, and I can't guarantee I will find anything. Trying to track another mage's teleport is almost impossible… but I swear to you I will do everything within my power to find them for you."

Her eyes were brimming with sympathy, and she offered him a very small smile of encouragement. As much as Varian didn't appreciate being  _handled_ , he could respect what Jaina had tried to do, and knew deep down that his blind rage would do nothing to help Anduin and Auriana. He had already let his anger get the better of him several times in the months since the mysterious assassins had began to target his family, and he refused to let it happen again. Certainly not with so much at stake.

"Very well," he said gruffly, accepting both the sword and Jaina's help with a stern nod. "Let's bring them home."


	21. Anduin

Anduin tried his hardest to stay awake, but eventually the cold, the dark, and the fear of being hunted down by faceless assassins became overwhelming, and he fell into a disturbed and restless sleep. His dreams were filled with terrifying visions of fire and blood, and each nightmare inevitably ended with his and Auriana's violent deaths.

Nevertheless, he somehow managed to sleep until morning, when he was finally awoken by a weak beam of sunlight streaming right into his eyes. The first thing he noticed as he stirred was aching cramp in his right thigh from being pressed up against a rock all night, but he forgot his pain almost immediately as he realised that Auriana was no longer resting up against his side.

"Auri?" he whispered.

Anduin blinked, and his lingering sleepiness rapidly turned to panic as he reached out and found her gone. Their small fire had died sometime during the night, and while it was morning, the Duskwood was still as dark as if it were twilight anywhere else. He blinked again as his eyes adjusted to the low light, and eventually sighed in relief as he caught sight of Auriana seated just inside the entrance to the cave.

She was sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor; both her position and Anduin's oversized coat making her look childlike and vulnerable. She was biting her lip, and seemed deep in thought. Every so often, she reached up to scribble something on the rock with a small piece of charcoal, muttering to herself under her breath as she did so. Thankfully, she looked much more alert then she had the previous evening, and Anduin prayed that the effects of Broll's concoction were finally wearing off.

"Er… Auri… what are you doing?" he asked, gingerly unfolding his long legs and clambering awkwardly to his feet.

He was stiff and sore from sleeping against the hard cave wall with Auriana in his lap, and his legs ached from having run across what felt like half the length of Duskwood.

"Drawing," she said simply.

As Anduin drew closer, he noticed that Auriana's left foot was twitching, and that she seemed somewhat manic. She had drawn what looked two rather lumpy potatoes, to which she had added a series of dark lines and crosses. A smattering of rune markings dotted the edges of her picture, though Anduin didn't know what they meant.

"I can see that…" he said slowly. "Drawing what?"

"A map of Duskwood and Elwynn. I think I know what went wrong with my teleport," she muttered distractedly, adding a vertical line that connected her two abstract shapes.

"That's a map?" Anduin asked skeptically, tilting his head to the side as he tried to find any landmark that he recognised.

"I've been drugged and shot, Anduin, give me a break. And I was hardly much of artist to begin with," Auriana growled witheringly. "Do you know how portals work?"

"Er… something to do with ley lines?" he said, recalling a conversation he'd once had with his Aunt Jaina.

"That's right," Auriana said, nodding. "Essentially we use ley lines to navigate, to position ourselves in the world. Similar to how a sailor would use latitude and longitude."

"Alright… then what went wrong?"

"In layman's terms, I think I got the longitude right, but not the latitude," she explained, thoughtfully drumming her fingers on her knees. "My power was draining, and I... well, it's a bit more complex than that, but that's essentially the problem."

"So… we're somewhere south of Stormwind?" Anduin reasoned.

"Yes, I believe so," Auriana agreed, her eyes lighting up eagerly. "Almost directly south, I'd wager, though I'm not sure how far."

She pointed to a large  _x_  at the top of the map that Anduin abruptly realised was supposed to represent Stormwind, and ran her finger in a straight line down the wall.

"I see," he mused. "Er… how did you figure this out?"

"The dragon told me," Auriana replied blithely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh…" Anduin sighed worriedly. "Still seeing things, then?"

"Apparently," she admitted, "Though at least my hallucinations have decided to be cooperative."

Anduin wasn't sure he trusted the word of an imaginary dragon, but he supposed there was little to be gained from arguing the point. Auriana seemed on edge, but she was still far more lucid than he had expected. There was also something about seeing her active and thinking that gave him great comfort, and he was careful not to interrupt her theorising as he took a seat at her side.

"May I look at your wound?" he asked.

"Mmm," she agreed, though she didn't take her eyes off her drawing.

Anduin leaned in close, gingerly slipping the top button of Auriana's borrowed coat, and swallowed a gasp as he slid the fabric from her shoulder. While the arrow wound was clean, Auriana's entire upper back was blackened from the effects of the magebane. The contrasting pallor of her uninfected skin made the inky lines of poison look even darker, and Anduin was uncomfortably reminded of rotting flesh.

"So… do we make for Darkshire?" he asked, more to distract himself from the horror of Auriana's back than anything else.

"I had another idea, actually…" she said slowly, flinching ever so slightly as Anduin pressed his fingers gingerly against her back and channelled the Light.

"Oh?"

"The Rebel Camp, in Stranglethorn," she explained, adding another small  _x_ at the very bottom of her map. "There's still an Alliance outpost there. If we are where I think we are, it's a lot closer than Darkshire, or Sentinel Hill."

"The assassins would hardly expect us to go there, either," Anduin agreed thoughtfully.

"Exactly. My teleport would have brought us time, failed as it was, but they've had a whole night to..."

Auriana was cut off by a harsh, rasping wail from somewhere outside, and she pulled away; nearly knocking Anduin over as she scrambled to her feet, pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, and rushed to the cave entrance.

"Auri?"

"Did you hear that, too?" she demanded. "Or was that in my head?"

"I heard it, some sort of bird…" Anduin said, confused by her sudden alarm. "Auri, I don't…"

He dragged himself painfully upright, and moved to Auriana's side as she frantically scanned the dusky canopy for any sign of movement.

"There," she hissed, pointing. "What type of bird would you say that is?"

Faint sunlight streamed through the trees from above, though it still took Anduin some time to spot the large, cawing bird circling overhead. It looked too big to be a hawk or a raven, and its wingspan was far wider than even that of a great eagle.

"Er… a roc? A condor, maybe?" he guessed. "I don't really know all that much about birds…"

"Rocs aren't native to Duskwood," Auriana said grimly. "Nor are condors. That's a hunter's bird."

"Do you think it's Father's guards searching for us?" he suggested hopefully. "He would have sent help the moment he realised we were missing..."

"Unlikely… Stormwind Rangers favour hawks, or falcons…"

The bird cawed again, and this time was answered by the low, mournful bay of a hunting dog somewhere nearby.

"Hounds," Auriana breathed.

"Father keeps dogs…" Anduin said warily.

"So do assassins, it's not like dogs are difficult animals to come by," Auriana snapped, her lips drawing into a thin, unhappy line.

Anduin started at the harshness of her tone, and Auriana immediately winced in apology. She took a few deep breaths, but there was no disguising the concern in her eyes. Anduin had never really seen her in battle, but she had always been cool and confident combatant when they had trained together in the arena. Being hunted through a spooky forest was a far cry from the safety of a practice arena, of course, but from what he had heard, she he had faced down  _Archimonde_  on Draenor without batting an eye… and yet here she was, her eyes wild and her jaw tight with barely contained anxiety. The thought did not fill Anduin with confidence, and he wondered if the loss of her powers had broken her spirit - or whether she was afraid because she didn't trust  _him_  to keep her safe

"Anduin… I'm sorry about this… but you're going to have to go out there and find out what's happening," she murmured finally, clearly struggling to stay both calm and lucid. "Have you had much scouting experience?'

"Auri. Look who you're talking to," he muttered flatly. "Anduin, not Varian."

Anduin was painfully aware that he was out of his depth, though he had rarely felt the deficit so keenly. Auriana was injured and vulnerable, and right now she desperately needed someone like his father. She needed someone brave, and skilled, and deadly... and instead, she only had  _him_.

 _You're not strong enough to protect her,_  whispered a dark, cruel voice in the back of Anduin's mind, and he shivered.

Strangely enough, however, Auriana did not seem to share his trepidation. She gave him an odd, inscrutable look, almost as if she were confused by his hesitation, and patted his arm reassuringly.

"I'm not hallucinating  _that_ badly, Anduin Wrynn," she said quietly, staring up at him with blazing blue eyes. "I know who you are. And I need you to help me."

"If you're sure…" he murmured doubtfully.

"I am," she assured him briskly, with a short nod of her head. "Now - you've essentially done this before… you evaded the Alliance forces in Pandaria for quite some time, correct?"

"Well… yes, though the Alliance weren't trying to kill me, and I had considerable help from the Pandaren," he reminded her flatly. "I was also captured by the Horde vanguard at one point."

"Avoiding capture would be preferable," Auriana said, frowning. "I'm fairly certain this lot do not intend to ransom you."

"You still think someone's trying to use us to start a war?" Anduin wondered.

"I don't know," she admitted, "And that worries me."

Auriana sighed, and thoughtfully bit her lip.

"Look, right now it doesn't matter what their endgame is, it only matters that they want us dead. But, as you pointed out, your father has most likely sent guards out after us by now. We need to know whether there's a rescue party out there, or not," she surmised. "I also need you take note of the position of the sun, if you can."

"Why?"

"The sun will allow us to approximate both our bearing and the time," she reminded him patiently. "Both of which could be very useful."

"Oh. Right. I knew that," Anduin mumbled, his ears burning red with embarrassment.

Auriana may have been suffering from some particularly vivid hallucinations, but of the two of them, it seemed that she was still the one planning and thinking ahead, while Anduin was simply trying to keep his own fear in check. In all fairness, she  _was_ vastly more experienced than he when it came to sneaking around the woods evading assassins, though he nevertheless felt a surge of the same gnawing inadequacy that he often felt around his father. He knew that he had his own talents, of course, but right then, he didn't see how they would be of any particular use in their current situation.

He sighed, only to be pulled from his brooding thoughts by the soft touch of Auriana's hand on his shoulder.

"Anduin. You can do this," she insisted firmly. "You're going to be fine."

"Of course you'd say that, Auri," he muttered, with a weak grin, "You get to stay in the cave…"

Stepping out into the cloying, perpetual twilight of the Duskwood took more courage than Anduin thought he had, but somehow he did it anyway; ignoring the nervous sweat that rose on his brow as he slipped into the cover of the trees. The bird circling above let out another rough caw, and Anduin felt the back of his neck prickle with paranoia.

The canopy was so thick that it blocked out almost all sunlight, though Anduin was at least able to approximate his bearings from the position of the sun. It was not yet midday, he figured, though it was far later in the morning than he had realised. He felt a faint pang of irritation at Auriana for having let him slept that long, though he knew she had most likely done so out of concern for his wellbeing.

 _Or because she was hallucinating and forgot I was there…_  he thought grimly.

The thought brought Anduin little comfort as he picked his way through the trees at a snail's pace, fearful as he was of cracking a single twig or a rustling a single leaf. He had tracked animals before, of course, but a hunt was an entirely different experience when one was the  _prey_. He was completely unarmed, without his bow or even so as much as knife to defend himself, and he found his heart beating so painfully fast and loud that he thought the entire forest must have been able to hear. Nevertheless, he forced himself onwards through the forest, taking careful note of his path so that he could find his way back to the cave again once his mission was complete.

Alarmingly, the mysterious hunters were a lot closer than Anduin had reckoned, and he stumbled onto a small pack of them within a mere quarter of an hour. It was a minor miracle that he managed to prevent himself from crying out in surprise, and he hastily flattened himself against a nearby tree. He was also suddenly very  _aware_ of his body; from the slight tremor in his knees, to the rasp of air in his lungs and the pounding of blood in his ears.

Anduin stood frozen for several long minutes, terrified as he was of looking around the trunk of his tree to see an assassin staring right back at him. Eventually, however, his fierce desire to protect Auriana overrode his fear, and he peered out into the clearing as carefully and silently as he was able.

Anduin had never wanted to see the blue and gold livery of Stormwind more, but he knew within seconds that the hunters were not Alliance men loyal to his father. There were three of them standing in a group: a blonde woman with a viciously curved bow slung over her back; a rugged, bearded man who was almost as large as Varian; and a second, whip thin man with eyes like a snake. They were dressed in an assortment of mismatched leathers and armour, and all three possessed the cold, mercenary air of people who enjoyed killing.

"We've been out here all night, and  _your_ dogs seem to have lost the scent," the blonde woman was saying scornfully, putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at the big bearded man. "You should just call them back."

"It's this damn forest," he grumbled. "The whole place smells like death, it's making it hard for them to work."

"Are we sure they came this way?" she argued. "The mage got off a teleport. For all we know, they could be back in Stormwind as we speak."

"They aren't. My dogs picked up a good trail in northern Duskwood. They're around here somewhere, I promise you," the big man retorted. "And if you're so concerned about the mage escaping, maybe you should have shot her in the throat…"

He glared angrily down at his female companion, and she rolled her eyes.

"No need to get defensive…" she said dismissively, as she kicked a fallen log with her foot.

"Just remember the plan," the big man snarled. "Kill the woman first. Even without her powers, rumour has it she's a crafty little bitch."

"Not the boy?" the blonde asked. "He's twice her size, and I don't think he's injured."

"He's harmless," the bearded man scoffed. "Killing him will not be difficult. He's not at all like his father."

"You ain't wrong," snorted the thin man. "If I were Wrynn, I would have had a few questions for my wife..."

All three of them laughed cruelly, and their voices faded away into nothing as they walked off further into the forest to the west. For his part, Anduin remained frozen in his hiding spot behind the tree, fighting to control his suddenly frantic breathing. He knew he shouldn't care about the crude opinions of mercenaries, but given the current situation and his own nagging doubts, their words stung more than usual. He also hated that they would cast such nasty aspersions on his mother; though sadly, he had heard similar allegations before.

He tried not to brood as he waited for the assassins to be well gone, but it was a difficult thing. What they had said was true, of course, he  _wasn't_ like his father, and he was afraid that being who he was going to get Auriana killed.

 _You are not a hero like your father,_ his inner voice taunted him.  _You will never_ be  _a hero like your father..._

Anduin's bitter introspection continued to plague him even after he finally left the safety of his tree and began to make the harrowing journey back to the cave. As he approached the cave entrance, however, his dark thoughts vanished in an instant as he heard what sounded like the scrape of boots on stone, followed by an unmistakeable gasp of fear and surprise.

"Auri?" he called uncertainly.

He immediately rushed into the cave, and his mouth fell open in shock as he saw Auriana backed into the wall by a tall, knife-wielding assassin. He was heavy, though not as large as the man Anduin had seen in the clearing before, and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy having Auriana at his mercy.

"Ain't so fierce without your magic, are you?" he growled.

He was advancing on her slowly, kicking aside the embers of the dying fire and fingering the point of his wickedly long knife in a deliberate attempt to increase her fear.

"You're lucky I don't have my powers," Auriana retorted angrily. "Or you'd already be a pile of ashes on the floor."

She was leaning heavily on the wall for balance, but her expression was so fierce and determined that Anduin was surprised she hadn't incinerated the assassin with the power of her stare alone. As she glared up at the assassin, however, her eyes met Anduin's over the hefty man's shoulder, and all the colour drained from her face.

"No…" she breathed, and she shook her head frantically.

Anduin could not have said what came over him in that moment, but it occurred to him that with the assassin's back turned, he had the tactical advantage. He charged forward without hesitation, ready to tackle the man to the ground, only to cry out in shock and pain as the assassin spun without warning, and punched him hard in the jaw. Anduin staggered, black spots dancing across his vision, and he put up barely any resistance as the assassin grabbed him by the throat.

"Wait your turn, whelp," the man hissed, before hefting Anduin easily and tossing him violently to one side.

"Anduin!"

The back of Anduin's head smacked hard into the cave wall, and he crumbled dazedly to his knees. He tried to stand, to protect Auriana as he had sworn to do, but he was so dizzy that he could barely even  _see_  her where she stood up against the cave wall.

"Not much of a fighter, this one," the assassin snorted, kicking Anduin's boot dismissively. "You sure you're your father's son?"

"Don't you  _dare_  touch him!" Auriana roared, her face contorting with rage. "Or I swear to the Light that I will skin you alive. Magic or no magic."

"Have it your way, then," the assassin said flatly.

He shrugged, and before either Anduin or Auriana could react, he dropped his knife and lunged forward to slap her hard across the face. Auriana crumpled and cried out in pain, and Anduin was suddenly struck by how incredibly small she really was; something he had never truly appreciated until that moment. With her magic, Auriana was more than a match for anyone alive; but injured, unarmed, and stripped of her powers, she didn't stand a chance against a man who outweighed her by perhaps a hundred pounds.

Anduin watched in dazed horror as the assassin slapped her down a second time, before the heavy man reached out and hoisted her up with the wall with a single enormous hand wrapped around her throat. Frantic, he fought to keep his eyes open, but dazed as he was, there was little he could do as the assassin tightened his grip and shook her violently. Evidently, he wanted the pleasure of killing her with his bare hands, while Anduin was forced to watch helplessly. Everything was happening too fast; he had no time to think, to plan, to negotiate...

"A-Anduin…" Auriana coughed desperately, using the last of her strength to reach a trembling hand towards him. "An…"

The assassin scoffed in triumph as her eyes rolled back in her head and her body stilled, and Anduin's entire body suddenly surged with a fury far beyond anything he had ever felt.

" _No_!"

The scream that tore from his throat was so loud that it hurt, and Anduin felt as he were watching himself from very far away as he raised his hand and called upon the Light. His mind was oddly blank, and he couldn't consciously bring a spell to mind. Somewhere deep inside, however, he felt something snap, and the cave suddenly burned impossibly white as he brought a smite of terrible power down upon the assassin.

Auriana's would-be murderer howled in agony as the power of the Light tore through his body like lightning, and he collapsed instantly beneath the power of Anduin's spell. Auriana fell will him, her hair spilling wildly over her shoulders as pitched forward and eventually came to rest face down on the cave floor. She was alarmingly still, and Anduin crawled brokenly to her side with his heart in his throat.

"Auri?"

He reached out for her with shaking hands, and gently rolled her on to her back. Her throat was red and tortured from where the assassin had strangled her, and her eyes remained firmly closed. Her head lolled limp and lifeless in Anduin's hands as he shook her gently; a rising sense of panic welling in his chest for every second that she failed to respond. His own wounds suddenly seemed like nothing, and he felt tears prick his eyes as he prayed for her to stir.

 _Check for a pulse_ , Anduin reminded himself firmly.  _You need to_ _check for a pulse._

He anxiously brushed Auriana's hair back from her deathly pale throat, and pressed his fingers into the small hollow below the line of her jaw.

"Come on, Auri,  _please_ …"

Anduin had taken a pulse a hundred times, but try as he might, he couldn't seem to find Auriana's heartbeat. He was shaking, trembling violently, and every single lesson he had ever learned as a healer seemed to have vanished from his mind.

"You can't leave me alone out here," he begged. "I  _need_ you."

He switched his frantic grip to her pale wrists as tears began to roll freely down his cheeks, and the dingy darkness of the cave suddenly brightened as he subconsciously called upon his powers. There was no method to his spellcasting, only pure desperation, and he lost track of time as he fell into the bright, endless power of the Light. It filled him, sustained him, even as his heart was breaking, and he poured as much of that precious, life giving energy into Auriana as he could.

Eventually, the Light around Anduin faded, and his eyes flew open. Auriana remained impossibly still, but something deep inside of him whispered hope. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before trying one more time, and let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief as he finally found Auriana's slow, thready pulse. She was still far too pale, of course, but pale and unconscious was better than dead. In a way, she reminded Anduin uncomfortably of a broken, discarded doll, and he kept his hand resting gently on her neck until he was absolutely certain that her faint heartbeat would not simply fade away into nothing.

After what felt like hours, he finally sat back on his heels, and quickly dried his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. He took a few slow breaths to steady himself, only to recoil in shock and revulsion as he realised that he was sitting right next to the dead assassin. The man's skin was blackened and charred, as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning, and he reeked of burning hair and flesh. His face had been so distorted by the smite's righteous fire that he no longer looked remotely human, and Anduin could scarcely believe that he had been able to summon such fury. He had never been a soldier; had never been able to understand the confidence and joy with which people like his father and Auriana threw themselves into battle, and the thought of having killed a man made him sick to his stomach. He would  _never_  regret saving Auriana's life, of course, but the cost...

The soft whine of a hunting hound ripped Anduin from his troubled thoughts, and he instinctively reached out to grab Auriana's wrist. The mournful wail had sounded far too close, and he abruptly realised that they needed to move. If one assassin had found them, more were surely not far behind, and Anduin didn't think he had it in him to fight off an entire pack of deadly killers. Auriana was unlikely to wake up any time soon, and even if she  _had_  been conscious, there was very little she could contribute to a fight, given her condition. Anduin also had no doubt that his father was out there, somewhere, tearing apart the kingdom in an effort to find him, but for now, at least… he was completely alone.

His chest constricted with fear at the thought, and he scrambled anxiously to his feet, bending down painfully to pull Auriana off the floor. She was limp and boneless in her unconscious state, and it was only with a great deal of grunting and swearing that Anduin finally managed to get her up and over his shoulder. Her injuries worried him greatly, but he knew that an arrow wound or a bruised throat would be the least of her problems if they were caught. Still, he did his best to make sure that Auriana was not in a position that would cause her greater harm, and held her firmly against his body as he slipped out of the cave and out into the Duskwood.

As Auriana had suggested, Anduin immediately turned towards the south, and prayed that he would reach the Rebel Camp sooner rather than later. It was fortunate that he had been able to orient himself earlier, as what little sunlight there was had now been swallowed up by the arrival of several angry black storm clouds that stretched as far as the eye could see. It also didn't seem possible, but somehow the thunderheads made the forest seem even more ominous, and Anduin ran as if the hounds of Sargeras himself were nipping at his heels. Every noise and shadow made him jump, and he had nearly dropped Auriana more than once as he swerved away from an imagined attack.

Eventually, however, the panicked adrenaline that had sustained Anduin ever since he had left the cave wore out, and his legs unexpectedly collapsed from sheer exhaustion. He crashed painfully to his knees, and it was only by a minor miracle that he stopped himself from crying out and alerting anyone to his position. He nevertheless lost his grip on Auriana, and she went tumbling wildly down a small hill, before coming to rest at the base of a nearby tree like a pale, limp ragdoll.

Anduin groaned in misery, and he could not bring himself to even  _attempt_ to stand. He wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, to simply forget the assassins and lose himself in the sweet blackness of unconsciousness. It had also started to drizzle, and he could already feel the unpleasant squelch of mud pooling in his boots as he lay facedown on the ground.

The urge to give up was overwhelming, and Anduin's eyes had actually begun to droop when a small, determined voice inside him whispered.

_You have to get up. You made a promise. She needs you._

Oddly enough, the new voice in his head sounded like his father, though of course Varian was likely miles away. Still, the familiar, deep thrum of his father's voice brought Anduin great comfort, even if it were imagined, and with a supreme effort, he dragged himself to his knees and crawled to Auriana's side.

She was still breathing, thankfully, but she remained frighteningly still as Anduin brushed the wet hair back from her face.

"Wake up, Auri, please," he urged. "I can't… I can't do this alone."

Anduin didn't truly expect his words to have any effect, but to his immense surprise and gratitude, her eyes weakly fluttered open.

"Auri!" he gasped, reaching forward to gently cradle her head between his hands. "You're alive!"

"Mostly…" she choked, "Though it doesn't… help… that your knee… is pressing into… my gut…"

Anduin looked down, and his ears burned as he realised he was resting most of his weight on her stomach. He quickly scrambled backwards, and offered her a hand to help her sit up.

"Where are we?" she groaned, her voice raspy and quiet from the damage to her throat.

"I don't know," Anduin admitted. "South of where we were, or as best as I could figure."

Auriana rubbed her throat painfully, and her eyes widened in alarm as she slowly took stock of their surroundings.

"There was an assassin…"

"Dead," Anduin said quietly.

Auriana raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Anduin could see that she was struggling to wrap her head around the idea.

"You… you… did you... kill him?"

Anduin nodded shortly, but he was unable to look her in the eye.

"Um… we should find somewhere out of the rain, if we can. Last thing I need is to catch a chill," she suggested quietly. "Help me up?"

Anduin dragged himself to his feet, trying to ignore the trembling in his knees as he leant heavily on the tree for balance. He felt as if he couldn't take another step, but somehow he managed to help Auriana stand, and together they limped awkwardly to the shelter of a nearby rocky overhang.

"Do you think we're safe here?" Anduin asked, as he collapsed heavily to the ground.

"Probably not, though the storm should confuse the dogs," Auriana said murmured.

"I overhead some of the assassins talking when I was scouting earlier," Anduin recalled vaguely, though it seemed it had been a lifetime ago. "They said the smells in Duskwood made it hard for the dogs to work."

"That gives us a bit of time, then," she said slowly. "I think you need to sit for a bit."

" _Me_?" Anduin exclaimed, though deep down he was grateful for the suggestion. "I'm not the one who was nearly choked to death."

He was still trembling, though whether from the rain or the shock of killing the assassin, he couldn't tell. He could also feel Auriana watching him like a hawk, and he tucked his shaking hands beneath his legs lest she see. A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between them, before Auriana finally sighed, and spoke.

"Anduin… um… was that... was that assassin the first man that you ever...?"

She trailed off before she finished the question, and she folded her hands nervously in her lap. In the dim light of the forest, her ashen face looked otherworldly; almost as if she were one of the restless spirits that roamed the deeper woods, with the damage to her throat only serving to add to her bedraggled appearance. Her blue eyes were surprisingly sharp, however, and she stared at Anduin with the kind of burning intensity that he felt in his very soul.

"W-when… when the Scourge assaulted Stormwind when I was a boy, I fought in the defense. I hated every second of it…" he said slowly. "I saved my Father from assassins, once... I have shielded Alliance soldiers, protected them,  _healed_  them, but..."

"It's different when it's a person," Auriana finished sagely, nodding slightly to herself as she stared out into the rain. "Not a demon, or a ghoul, or a monster. Just a man."

Anduin did not reply, instead following Auriana's line of sight and staring straight ahead into the blackened forest. He hadn't realised in the moment, but he had actually  _felt_  the assassin die; felt the bright spark of the man's soul extinguished by his own blinding power… and he hated himself for it.

He shivered.

"Er… do you... do you want to talk about it…?" Auriana asked awkwardly.

To Anduin's surprise, she reached out to take his hand, and tentatively knotted her fingers with his. He had only seen her look so soft one before, when she had come to him after their narrow escape from the bomb in his rooms. Emotion did not come easily to her, he knew, but there was no denying the shy kindness in her eyes, nor the strength with which she gripped his hand. She may have been throttled to with an inch of her life, but it seemed her concern lay only with Anduin, and not herself.

"How do you do it, Auri?" he asked finally, running his free hand anxiously through his hair. "You've been a soldier for so long, you must have killed  _hundreds_  of people..."

He immediately fell silent at the stricken look on her face, and found himself wishing that he had said literally  _anything_ else.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "I didn't mean to..."

"It's alright," she reassured him, though her brow was heavily furrowed. "I know what you meant."

She sighed.

"I guess... I don't like having to kill," she started slowly, choosing each word with great care, "But... if I have to, if I have no choice... I will. Every life has value, but if there is a greater good to be gained by  _taking_ a life..."

Auriana winced at her turn of phrase, and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure how to put this into words," she murmured. "I don't want you to think I'm... cold. It's never a small thing to me, Anduin, to take a life. It should never  _be_  a small thing. But when it's unavoidable, sometimes the best you can do is just... pray that you've done the right thing."

"He was going to kill you…" Anduin whispered desperately, more to himself than to her. "I couldn't… I couldn't let him hurt you, I just  _couldn't_ …"

He glanced across at her, stricken, and her slender fingers tightened around his.

"I'm inclined to agree, though I may be a little biased," she rasped, with a weak attempt at a grin.

Anduin did not have it in him to return Auriana's smile, but he kept a firm grip on her hand nonetheless. He didn't even want to  _think_ about what would happen to his father if the assassin had succeeded in throttling her, nor what her death would cost  _him_. Anduin had initially supported Auriana's relationship with Varian out of a desire to see his brooding and stoic father happy, but had over time come to care for her as a person in her own right. No-one could ever replace his mother, of course, and nor did he believe that Auriana wanted to, but ever since she had returned from Draenor, her presence had given Anduin a glimpse of the kind of warm and comfortable family life that he had never thought he might know.

"Auri…"

"Come here," she said quietly, painfully lifting her injured arm and beckoning him closer.

"What?" Anduin exclaimed, genuinely surprised that she would make such a gesture.

"I'm trying to comfort you," Auriana explained hesitantly, with a small half-smile. "It would be a lot less awkward if you went along with it…"

Her expression was unusually earnest, and Anduin found himself unable to resist the invitation to tuck his head against her chest as her arm encircled his shoulders. Auriana was incredibly small, and he was terribly afraid of breaking her somehow, but he was surprised at how comforting it was to feel her heartbeat thrum softly against his cheek.

"I-is this alright?" she asked shyly.

"It's… it's very nice," Anduin said honestly. "I've never really been… held. Father is not exactly the… er...  _cuddling_ type, and Mother…"

He trailed off sadly, and vaguely wondered what it would have been like to sleep safe and warm in Tiffin's arms. It was properly storming now, making the already miserable situation somehow much worse, and Anduin had rarely felt the lost of his mother more than he did in that moment.

"I saw her, in one of my visions," Auriana murmured, her voice so soft beneath the driving rain that Anduin had to strain to hear.

"What was she like?" he wondered, trying not to sound overeager.

Auriana had been reluctant to talk about her experiences during the course of Broll's ritual, but Anduin knew that if he did not ask now, he might very well go to his grave having never known the answer. He also knew that whatever Auriana had seen had been less than a ghost, less than a memory, even, but right then he was desperate for any semblance of distraction from the crushing reality of their situation.

"She was… kind," Auriana said slowly, shifting her weight slightly beneath Anduin as she spoke. "Kinder than I deserve, actually. I thought she might… hate me. For being with Varian, I mean."

"I don't think she was that sort of person," Anduin said confidently, though he could understand Auriana's concern.

As much as she had been loved by Varian, TIffin had been just as popular with the peoples of Stormwind, and he supposed he had never really considered how that might have made Auriana feel. It must have been daunting to follow in the footsteps of someone so universally beloved, he realised, and Auriana's reluctance to accept Varian's proposal suddenly made a great deal more sense. Anduin also found it strange that he had never considered such a thing before, given the parallels between Auriana's fears and his own struggle to live up to his father's legacy, and his stomach twisted guiltily.

"She would only ever want him to be happy, I am certain of it," he added quickly. " _You_  make him happy."

"It's alright, Anduin. After some initial difficulties, we… ah… talked it out," Auriana said gently. "She's proud of you, you know."

"Do you really think so?" Anduin said hesitantly. "I mean… how would you know? She's dead, Auri."

"Well, I know how proud I am of you," Auriana argued, her voice cracking strangely, "And I can only imagine that as your mother she would be just as proud… if not a hundred times more. You saved my life today, Anduin, even though I know you were afraid… and if we don't… well, you should know I'm just… so grateful. For you. For being exactly who you are."

She pulled him against her body with a sudden urgency, and buried her face in the wet tangles of his hair. For a second, Anduin stiffened in shock, having  _never_ heard Auriana express her feelings so openly, before he regained his senses and responded in kind. His heart beat almost painfully fast as he was overcome by a wave of emotion, and he clung to Auriana for what seemed like hours as the storm raged violently all around them.

Anduin knew their brief moment of peace was unlikely to last, however, and he was proven right far too soon as another horn sounded, followed by the answering bark of a hound.

"Dammit," Auriana muttered, her brow creasing worriedly as she gently pushed Anduin off her chest. "They've found us."

She looked down at their joined hands, and something in her expression hardened.

"Come on."

She dragged Anduin upright and out into the rain, keeping a surprisingly tight grip on his hand, and she peered out anxiously through the surrounding darkness. Her already damp clothes and hair were soaked through within minutes, which gave her the unfortunate appearance of very sad and very small drowned animal, and her skin felt cold and clammy to the touch. Of course, Anduin knew he probably looked little better, and he brushed his dripping hair out of his eyes in irritation.

"Auri… I don't think I can run much further," he warned her grimly. "Certainly not with you on my back."

"You won't have to," she replied firmly, her eyes igniting with sudden hope. "You see that big ridge over there?"

"Yes…"

"You said you ran straight south from where we were this morning, right? Then Stranglethorn Vale should be just on the other side," she explained, the roar of the pouring rain making her almost impossible to hear. "I'd guess we're two, maybe three miles from the Rebel Camp."

"You're sure?" Anduin asked skeptically.

"More or less…" she said, shrugging weakly. "At a fast run, it shouldn't take you more than half an hour, even with the difficult terrain."

"I told you, I don't think I can carry you  _and_  move that fast," Anduin repeated slowly, wondering why she didn't seem to be listening to him. "If I can carry you at all. My legs are shot, Auri..."

Auriana had seemed to be less affected by Broll's hallucinogen than she had earlier that morning, but she had also been badly injured, and had not eaten anything in over a day. If Anduin himself was thirsty, sore, and starving, he could only imagine that it was far worse for her, and her sudden, strange inattention made him worry.

"I'm sorry," he added painfully.

"You don't need to carry me," she assured him.

"Respectfully, Auri, I'm not sure you're in any shape to run," he said confusedly, thinking both of the spreading magebane and her tortured throat.

"That's not what I meant," she said quietly, and she suddenly seemed unable to meet his eyes as she released his hand and stepped away. " _You're_ going to run for the Rebel Camp.  _I'm_  going to distract the assassins and lead them away."

For a brief moment, Anduin simply blinked at her, unable to believe what he was hearing. It sounded as if she were planning to sacrifice herself so that he could escape, but surely she would not suggest anything so desperate. They had come this far together, and Anduin could not believe that she would be willing to give up when they were supposedly so close to help.

"No…" he murmured. "You… you're hurt. You have no magic, you can barely walk…"

"I can move well enough… and certainly well enough to buy you time. You're the heir to the throne of Stormwind, Anduin, and you need to start acting like it," she growled. "You have to survive. I don't. Now go."

"No!" Anduin exclaimed. "Auri, please. You are not…  _dispensable._  I won't… I won't leave you."

"I know you're worried about what your father might think…"

"This isn't just about my father!" Anduin argued fiercely, lunging forward so they were once again standing only inches apart. "You think he's the only person on Azeroth who cares about you?"

"Anduin…"

"I never knew my mother. My father was taken away from me and torn in  _half_ when I was just a boy," he beseeched her. "I've never had a… a  _normal_  family… and I didn't realise how much I wanted one until… you showed up, and everything changed."

Anduin tasted salt on his lips, and he realised that he was crying; his tears mingling with the rain pouring down his face. Everything about the last day suddenly came crashing down on his shoulders, and hearing Auriana offer to to trade her life for his was the last straw.

"He smiles when you're around, Auri!" he choked. "He really, honestly  _smiles_. Do you have  _any_ idea what what that means to me?"

Auriana's face fell, and she let out a faint sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

"Well?! Do you?"

"Y-you… you need to go," she insisted, her voice wavering. "They'll be on us any moment, and unless you're prepared to fight off a dozen assassins on your own..."

Anduin wasn't prepared to fight off even  _one_ assassin, much less be forced to kill a man for the second time that day, but he couldn't admit without conceding the argument to Auriana. Still, he refused to allow her to give up her life for him so easily, and he furiously wracked his brain for any alternative.

"Are you even listening to me?" he pleaded, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "Enough of the good soldier act! This isn't a matter of duty, do you understand? Auri..."

She abruptly stood up on her tiptoes and cupped his face in her hands, and he knew then that she really was seeing him,  _Anduin_ , and not only her charge. She stared at him with the same protective intensity that he had seen so often on his father's face, but had never thought to see on hers. Her eyes burned with a fierce, primal instinct, clear to Anduin even in the darkness; and it occurred to him then that perhaps he was  _not_  looking at a soldier protecting a prince - but rather a mother protecting a child.

"Anduin. I know," she whispered hoarsely. "I understand. And I'm being selfish here, alright? I'm not asking you to run for yourself. I'm asking you to run for me. Can you do that? Please?"

Of course, even Anduin knew that spitting up was a far better tactical decision than staying together. In their current state, he was fitter and faster, and he had a far better chance of making it to the Rebel Camp without being caught. To do so, however, would be tantamount to signing Auriana's death warrant, and Anduin didn't think he had it in him to leave her vulnerable and alone, no matter how objectively 'right' or strategic a decision it may have been. In his heart, he had always struggled to understand why it wasn't possible to save everyone, even though his head knew such a feat was next to impossible.

 _There has to be another way,_  he thought frantically.  _There has to be something else..._

A hound barked again, closer this time, and Auriana reflexively tightened her white-knuckled grip on Anduin's face.

"Please," she repeated urgently. "Don't make me beg."

Anduin had never seen such real, raw fear in Auriana's eyes before, and he was horribly torn. He wanted to stay with her, but he couldn't deny her when she looked at him like that; couldn't deny what might be her very last request on this earth. He groaned painfully, his heart breaking, but he finally assented with a slow, reluctant nod.

"Thank you," she breathed, undisguised relief written across every line of face.

To Anduin's utter shock, she then leaned in to press a soft, sad kiss against his cheek, before she finally stepped back out of his reach.

"If you can get to the Rebel Camp and get a gryphon to Stormwind, you might just save us both," she instructed. "Move fast, and don't look back, no matter what you might hear."

"Auri…"

"You're going to be alright, Anduin, I promise," she insisted, with a not-entirely-reassuring smile. "You're going to run as fast as you can, you're going to get back to your father, and then you're going to bring the fury of the whole damn Alliance down on these traitorous bastards."

"I will come back for you, Auri, I swear," he promised earnestly.

"I believe you," she said, nodding slightly. "I believe  _in_  you."

Auriana took a deep breath to steady herself, and squared her shoulders with a pride that belied her beaten and battered body. Her magic may have been gone, but not her bravery or her fierce fighting spirit, and in that moment Anduin truly understood why his father had fallen in love with her.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice breaking as he called on the Light and bolstered her with whatever power he could. "What are you going to do?"

Anduin's legs felt wooden, and although he had promised to run, he couldn't bring himself to take that first step. Auriana clearly sensed his reluctance to leave, however, and she gave his shoulder a gentle, encouraging push.

"I'm going to do what has to be done," she declared, her eyes narrowing with icy determination, and her voice ringing with challenge. "I'm going to protect my family."


	22. Anduin

Anduin ran.

Leaving Auriana behind was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever had to do, but despite the shaking in his legs, and the tears in his eyes, and the torrential rain… Anduin ran. He had no idea how he had the strength to even  _stand_ , let alone to evade a pack of assassins and their dogs, and yet he found himself running faster and farther than he ever had in his life.

The storm raging above Anduin seemed to worsen with every step, making it nearly impossible to see where he was going. Sharp tree branches whipped at his face and hands, leaving behind scores of shallow cuts, while the fierce wind chilled him to the bone. He fell to his knees more than once, having nearly hit several trees that appeared suddenly from out of the darkness, but he somehow picked himself up each and every time, and pressed on regardless. He feared that if he stopped for even a  _second,_  he would end up dying at the hands of a merciless sellsword - and with him, Auriana's hopes of rescue.

Despite his determination to save Auriana, however, Anduin found it harder and harder to keep running, as time seemed to stretch out interminably before him. Plunging through the darkness with Light knew what chasing him was a waking nightmare, and he was almost ready to give up, when the sharp ridge that divided Duskwood and Stranglethorn abruptly loomed before him.

Anduin barked out a short cry of relief, only for his heart to freeze in his chest a second later as the Duskwood rang with the the low, distinctive howl of a hound who had found its prey. A second howl answered, and a third; followed by a few loud, angry human shouts.

"Auri…" he gasped, skidding to a stop so quickly that he almost smacked headfirst into the the trunk of a nearby tree.

He took an involuntary step towards the echoing bay of the hounds, his every instinct screaming at him to go back, but his wiser mind reminded him that there was nothing he could do for Auriana right now. He was far too far away to come to her aid, assuming that she had been caught - and he wasn't entirely sure what use he would be even if he  _were_  nearby.

 _You promised_ , he reminded himself miserably.  _The best way to help her is to get back to Stormwind._

He forced his attention back to the ridge, and slowly began to climb. The ascent was less taxing on his legs than running, thankfully, though it caused all kinds of  _new_ pain in his arms. Still, he made to the top of the ridge with less difficulty than he might have thought, and in no time at all he had spotted a few dim, flickering lights that could only be the Rebel Camp.

It was a sparse outpost, in truth little more than a collection of tents around a fire, but Anduin had never been more grateful to see the bright blue of Alliance banners in his life. Without hesitation, he half-clambered, half-rolled down the Stranglethorn side of the ridge, and all but fell into the centre of the camp. He landed in a heap at the feet of a very surprised watchman, who rubbed the rain from his eyes as if he were afraid that he was imagining things. The storm was not quite so bad on this side of the ridge, but aside from the startled watchmen, it seemed the rest of the camp soldiers had taken shelter inside their cluster of small, roughshod tents.

"Help… help me…" Anduin gasped, reaching out with a desperate hand.

"Er… Lieutenant?" the young watchmen shouted uncertainly. "A young man just fell off the ridge…"

He grasped Anduin's proferred hand and pulled him to his feet, though he still seemed unsure as to whether Anduin were some kind of apparition or hallucination.

"What's this nonsense, Morley?" huffed a deep, commanding voice, and a second later a very disgruntled Lieutenant emerged from the closest tent. "It's just a little thunder, surely don't you need me to call your mother..."

He was clearly irritated to have been pulled from the relative comfort of his tent and out into the rain, but his consternation vanished the second his sharp eyes fell on Anduin.

" _Anduin Wrynn_?" he gasped, his thick grey eyebrows arching in shock. "What on earth…?"

"Help," Anduin repeated desperately. "We were lost in the Duskwood… there were assassins… help me… please…"

He was breathing heavily from his run, and he was so overwhelmed by having found a safe haven that he could barely pull a coherent thought together.

"Slow down, Highness," the Lieutenant said bracingly. "What are you doing out this far alone? Are you injured? Come inside and let us take a look at you..."

He put a hand on Anduin's back so that he might guide him toward the shelter of a nearby tent, but Anduin pulled roughly away.

"No, no...I'm fine," he panted dismissively. "But she's still out there. She's hurt… please…"

Anduin looked back up the ridge toward Duskwood, where even now Auriana might be fighting for her life against a relentless foe. He didn't have  _time_ to be arguing with well-meaning soldiers, not when there was still a chance that she might be still be saved.

"Who's out there?" the Lieutenant asked.

He followed Anduin's line of sight up towards the ridge, and his eyes narrowed in concern.

"Were you followed?" he added.

"Auri… er… Archmage Auriana Fenwild," Anduin explained quickly. "And.. no… no, I don't think I was followed."

It was then that Anduin realised that he and the Lieutenant were surrounded, as the half dozen soldiers that manned the camp had emerged from their tents to investigate the commotion. They were staring at Anduin with a wide variety of expressions, ranging from barely controlled curiosity to outright shock. The rain was still pouring down, making soft  _plinking_  noises as it hit the soldiers' armour, though none of them seemed to care that they were now soaking wet.

"The King's consort?" exclaimed a lanky, dark haired corporal. "She's being chased by assassins?"

"Yes!" Anduin snapped, unable to control his surging frustration. "They're hunting her through the Duskwood… she has no magic, and she's wounded. We need to find her.  _Please_..."

The Lieutenant and one of his sergeants exchanged a worried look, as if fearing that Anduin had lost his mind, but it seemed that they had taken his point. The Lieutenant beckoned sharply, and the camp soldiers instantly stood to attention.

"Stillair! Prepare one of your gryphons," he ordered, pointing to a wiry, brown haired man wearing a pair of gaudy, oversized flying goggles. "We need to get the Prince back to Stormwind immediately."

"Storm's coming in pretty bad, sir," the man named Stillar said worriedly, as he lifted a hand to test the wind. "If it gets much worse, we're not going to be able to fly."

"Then you'd best hurry," the Lieutenant countered firmly. "Get him out of here."

"Wait!" Anduin shouted. "I'm not leaving! Auri… I promised I would go back for her…"

He eyes suddenly burned with fresh tears, and he fought them down with a bitter growl. He had done his part, getting to the Rebel Camp, and now he had to see to it that Auriana was found safe. There were only a handful of men at the camp, to be sure, but there were enough to considerably even the odds...

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but we have an obligation to see you safe," the Lieutenant said firmly. "Stillair here will get you home safe, never fear."

"I'm not afraid!" Anduin shouted desperately. "I only left because she said I had to! You don't understand, they're going to  _kill_  her!"

The Lieutenant's expression softened, and he put a hand on Anduin's shoulder with a calm, fatherly air.

"We'll find her, lad, I promise, but right now, you need to see to your own safety," he said gently. "Your father's probably in a right state, not knowing where you are. What say you head back to the Keep to let him know you're safe, and we'll see to the lady?"

His voice was kind, but there was a hard edge to his voice that suggested he would do his duty to protect Anduin at all costs, regardless of what Anduin himself may have wanted. Anduin dearly wanted to argue, but he also realised that arguing would only delay the Lieutenant in sending out a search party, and he conceded with a grim, reluctant nod.

"That's a good lad," the Lieutenant said approvingly. "You're doing the right thing."

He stepped back and released his grip on Anduin's shoulder, and began issuing brief orders to his men.

"Sargeant, you take the Corporal there and head for the north road. You two, you're with me," he barked, pointing to each of his men in turn. "Watchman Morley, you stay here, in case our lost lady makes her way to the camp. And you, Stillair, get the Prince to safety."

"Right you are, sir!" Stillair said brightly. "Come on, Your Highness, this way."

As the rest of the Camp flew into action, Anduin felt a firm hand clamp around his arm, and he begrudgingly followed Stillair down along the rough path that lead to the outskirts of the camp, where three gryphons lay nestled beneath a crude lean-to. Their heads were tucked beneath their heavy wings for protection from the storm, but all three beasts looked up eagerly as their master approached.

"We'll get you back to Stormwind quicksmart, Your Highness, don't you worry," Stillair said confidently, as he quickly set about saddling a lean chestnut female. "This is Daisy, she's my fastest."

Anduin nodded vaguely, only half listening as the gryphon master described the gryphon's many brave exploits. He wanted to stay, wanted to be out searching for Auriana, but he knew there was very little he could offer a search party right now. He was so tired that he could barely keep his eyes open, and he almost failed to notice when Stillair stopped speaking and gestured for him to mount.

"Up you get," Stillair said encouragingly, his cheerful attitude a stark contrast to the dismal rain pouring down his shoulders. "If anyone can outrace this storm, it's good ol' Daisy here."

The gryphon preened at the praise, but she remained deliberately very still as her master mounted and pulled Anduin up behind him. Anduin wrapped his arms around the Lieutenant's waist and held tight as the gryphon gathered her muscles and launched into the air, and in no time at all they were racing away through the driving rain.

Stillair had not lied about Daisy's speed, but Anduin could tell that the gryphon was struggling to stay level as they flew up and over the ridge and back into the Duskwood. The whipping wind brought tears to Anduin's eyes as they flew, and he suddenly understood why Stillair wore his gaudy, oversized goggles. The rain also made it very difficult to see, and try as Anduin might, he couldn't make out anything more than the dull, grey-green blur of the darkened canopy racing by beneath them.

Between the wind and the rain, Anduin had no idea how Stillair kept his gryphon on track, and yet somehow he managed to fly them directly north. The grim darkness of Duskwood rapidly gave way to the lighter green of Elwynn Forest, though the storm was still blowing badly even here. Eventually, however, the the twinkling lights of Goldshire loomed out of the darkness, and Anduin's heart leapt with sudden hope as he made out the distinctive blue and yellow of his father's royal banners crowded around what appeared to be the inn.

"Stop!" he cried, shaking the gryphon master's shoulders firmly to get his attention. "We need to land!"

"Why?" Stillair shouted, his voice barely audible over the wind.

"Down there, outside the inn! See those guards? Those are royal elites!" Anduin hollered back. "My father must be down there!"

Stillair shouted something inaudible in reply, but he nevertheless angled Daisy into a steep dive and brought her in for a landing right outside the Lion's Pride Inn. Anduin barely waited for the gryphon's massive front talons to hit the ground before he threw himself awkwardly out of the saddle, and his exhausted legs almost collapsed beneath him as he hit the ground. A group of bewildered guards cried out at his sudden arrival, but he ignored them all as he lunged desperately for the bright, dancing lights of the inn.

His teeth were chattering wildly from having flown through so long through the freezing rain, and he let out a grateful, choking sigh as he stepped into the welcoming warmth of the Lion's Pride. The inn was curiously devoid of the loud music and louder patrons that may have normally been present at this time of night, the main taproom having been converted into a command centre for what appeared to be a very large search party. There were heavily armoured guards stationed at the inn's entrance, and at the very centre of the room, Varian, Jaina, Broll, and Mathias Shaw argued over a makeshift command table. They all appeared tense and unhappy as they poured over a map of Goldshire and the surrounding areas, and yet Anduin had never been more happy to see four people in his entire life.

"Father!"

Varian, Jaina, Broll, and Shaw looked up as one, and in that moment, it seemed to Anduin as if all the air had been sucked from the room. Jaina broke immediately into a wide, relieved smile, and Broll visibly muttered something under his breath. Shaw's face was as inscrutable as ever, while Varian's face had gone unusually pale, as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Anduin?"

Varian's voice was hoarse and throaty, and his piercing blue eyes shone with indescribable emotion as he lunged across the room and pulled Anduin into a fierce, crushing embrace. He held Anduin so tightly that it was almost painful, but Anduin didn't care. His father was strong, and warm, and  _safe_ ; and Anduin clung to him as if he would never let him go. Varian, too, seemed similarly affected, and he did not seem to care one whit for the fact that Anduin was soaking wet as he clutched desperately for his only son.

Their brief peace was soon interrupted, however, as the moment Anduin had been dreading ever since he had left Auriana finally arrived. Varian gradually loosened his titan grip on Anduin's shoulders, and stepped back slightly as he lifted his head towards the door. His heavily scarred face brightened with wild, undisguised hope, only to fall a mere fraction of a second later as he realised that Anduin had returned very much alone.

"Auri?" he whispered hoarsely, looking down at Anduin in stunned disbelief.

Anduin's eyes welled with tears, and he shook his head.

"I-I don't… I don't know where she is," he stammered miserably. "I'm sorry, Father, I'm so sorry…"

Varian closed his eyes painfully, and his massive fists clenched at his side as suddenly fought to control his breathing. He said not a word, however, as he turned and guided Anduin to an empty table at the back of the room.

"Sit," he barked, as he beckoned to a nervous looking serving girl lingering behind the bar. "Food here. And a pitcher of water."

The serving girl complied with Varian's order immediately, and she soon returned with a plate all but bursting with bread, meats and cheese. Anduin's stomach growled eagerly, but he nevertheless felt it somewhat callous to think of his own stomach when Auriana was still lost out in the storm. He glanced up at his father uncertainly, and Varian gave him a reassuring, if somewhat stern nod.

Despite his trepidation, Anduin did not need to be asked a second time, and he tore into his meal with great enthusiasm. Broll and Jaina came to sit on either side of him, almost like a protective vanguard, while Shaw loomed silently in the shadows behind him. Varian, too, remained standing, though he watched over Anduin with a sharp, wolf-like intensity as he ate.

Anduin half expected his father to interrogate him immediately, but Varian instead waited until Anduin had all but licked his plate clean before he finally spoke.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

"We were with Broll, out in the forest. We were… um… talking…" Anduin started, unsure how to properly describe the druidic ritual, nor why it had been necessary. "Auri was shot in the back. The assassins had tipped the arrows with something. Auri told me what it was, but I can't remember the name…"

"Magebane," Jaina supplied. "The arrows that hit Broll were similarly poisoned, though it didn't affect him."

Anduin glanced over at Broll, and belatedly realised that the tall archdruid was swathed in bandages from several wounds to his chest and legs. He looked unusually pale and diminished, though he managed to give Anduin a tight, encouraging smile.

"Y-yes, that's it. Ah… in any case, Auri managed to cast a teleport, but we were… thrown off course, I suppose you'd say," Anduin continued slowly. "We ended up somewhere in Duskwood."

"Duskwood?" Jaina repeated, with a thoughtful glance at Varian. "No wonder we couldn't find you. We've been looking in the wrong place."

"Auri… had no magic, and she was… injured," Anduin added, carefully avoiding looking at his father. "Worse than that… she was hallucinating. The… er… the concoction Broll gave her seemed to have some kind of interaction with the magebane, and she started seeing things."

Varian sharp eyes flicked briefly towards Broll, though he made no comment, and instead gestured silently for Anduin to continue. Anduin paused, wondering whether he should tell his father of the assassin that he killed, the one who had nearly choked Auriana to death... only to eventually decide that he couldn't bring himself to make Varian look more unhappy than he already did.

"We… er… we managed to evade the assassins overnight, but… they were closing in," he explained awkwardly. "They had dogs. Auri… as I said, she was injured, and she couldn't move as fast as I could. I think she realised that we were never going to evade the dogs, so she… she…"

Anduin broke off, unable to say the words, and closed his eyes in shame.

"She drew the assassins away to give you a chance to escape," Jaina finished, her voice catching ever so slightly as she realised the enormity of what Auriana had done.

"I didn't want to leave her…" Anduin mumbled helplessly. "But…"

He looked across at Varian, who may as well have been carved from stone for all the expression that showed on his face. Only his eyes showed any sign of emotion, and they looked as dark and tempestuous as Anduin had ever seen them.

"I'm sorry, Father…" he whispered wretchedly. "S-she made me promise..."

A tense, uncomfortable silence fell over the room as Varian abruptly turned his back on the Anduin and the others. Broll and Jaina exchanged a worried look, though no one seemed to know quite what to say. Certainly, no one  _dared_  try to placate Varian with hollow words of comfort, though Jaina did reach for Anduin's hand, and she held it tightly as they both stared sadly up at his father.

After what felt like an hour to Anduin, Mathias Shaw finally made a sound, as he leaned over to another table to retrieve a map of Duskwood, and carefully laid it out in front of Anduin.

"When you left Auriana… how long did it take you to arrive at the Rebel Camp?" he asked quietly.

"Um… I… I don't know. An hour, maybe?" Anduin guessed. "Climbing the ridge into Stranglethorn Vale took time…"

"If we assume that you travelled at an average running pace… and roughly in a straight line... that means Auriana must be somewhere in this area," Shaw mused, tapping a point on the map in the south-eastern corner of Duskwood.

He glanced over at Varian, who merely grunted.

"I can calculate how far she is likely to have travelled, assuming that both her injuries and the storm will slow her down," Shaw added, apparently undeterred by his King's distinct lack of response. "It should help to narrow things down. Excuse me."

Varian's massive shoulders were rigid with tension and tightly controlled rage, though he remained staunchly silent even as Shaw rolled up his map and took his leave. It was strange, Anduin thought, he almost would have preferred it if Varian were yelling. He had never liked his father's legendary temper, but right then he would have given almost anything to have Varian do  _something_ other than stare blankly at the wall.

"Father…" he implored. "I.. I'm sorry…"

Anduin's voice broke, and that, at last, seemed to catch Varian's attention.

"You did the right thing, son," he murmured roughly, slowly turning back around once more "Come. Let's get you into a room upstairs. You need to rest."

"What?" Anduin exclaimed. "No! I… I want to look for Auri…"

"Your father's right, Anduin," Jaina agreed, though she looked somewhat more apologetic. "You need to tend to your own needs before you can help anyone else."

"But… but… I left her!" Anduin cried, slamming his hands down on the table. "She gave herself up for  _me,_ I…"

"I understand that you want to help, but you're not going anywhere," Varian said flatly. "You are going to stay here, under guard. I will not risk losing you again."

"But…"

Varian's eyes flashed dangerously, and he fixed Anduin with the kind of glare that would make a Titan cower. He was not a father, then, but the indomitable King of Stormwind, and it was very clear that he  _would_ be obeyed.

"No. No arguments, Anduin," he snapped. "Not this time."

Varian moved off to join Shaw at the command table, effectively ending the argument, and Anduin had no choice but to concede. He departed the taproom with great reluctance, though he was somewhat glad for an excuse to shed his dirty and dishevelled clothes. He was exhausted, and sore, and sick with the knowledge that some of the grime that stained his trousers was Auriana's blood. He hadn't said as much to his father, of course, not wanting to cause him any further distress, but he did not want to wear the visceral reminder of his failure longer than was strictly necessarily.

He slowly followed one of the innkeeper's assistants upstairs to a small, neatly apportioned room with a large bed and a cheerful fire. The room was comfortable, and homey, and right then, it was everything that Anduin felt he did not deserve. Nevertheless, it was impossible to deny the sheer relief that overtook him as he finally removed his boots, nor the feeling of solace that rose in his chest as he watched the innkeeper's assistant silently draw a deep, steaming bath.

It was a small comfort, perhaps, given everything that had happened, but Anduin had scarcely been happier to see a full tub in his life. He barely waited for the innkeeper to leave and close the bathroom door before he tore away at his mud-soaked clothes and climbed into the tub with a long, drawn out sigh. The bath water was almost scalding against Anduin's ice-cold skin, but he simply didn't care. He submerged himself completely, and he briefly allowed himself to forget the world outside as he soaked away his aches and pains. Even the raging storm rattling at the windows seemed less terrible now that he was clean and warm, and he slowly began to feel vaguely like himself again.

Eventually, however, he knew he had to face the reality that lingered just outside his chambers, and he reluctantly clambered out of the comfort of the deep tub. He slowly dried himself off with one of the thick, fluffy towels that had been left for his use, before making his way back into the warmth of the main bedroom.

Somewhat to his surprise, he found a set of fresh clothes waiting for him on the corner of the bed, and he quickly set about getting dressed. Unlike the clothes Anduin had left discarded on the bathroom floor, these were simple and homespun, likely borrowed from one of the men who worked the inn; but they were warm, and dry, and he was immensely grateful.

Anduin had just pulled on a pair of thick, ugly socks, when he attention was roused by the deep, familiar growl of his father's voice somewhere nearby. His heart suddenly in his throat, he silently crept towards the door to his room, and opened it a crack to see Varian and Jaina conversing quietly at the top of the stairs. Varian was resting despondently against the balustrade, his head lowered with an uncharacteristic air of defeat, and the sight of him looking so miserable made Anduin's stomach twist with guilt once more.

"The information Anduin provided should allow us to narrow our search down to a few square miles in southern Duskwood, along the border with Stranglethorn Vale," Varian was saying, his voice low. "Assuming she's still alive."

"I'm sorry I couldn't track her location more accurately," Jaina replied sadly. "As I said, it is difficult to trace an active teleport, especially as it sounds as if it wasn't a clean cast…"

She trailed off and frowned, her frustration evident even from a distance. Anduin knew his 'aunt' very well, and he knew that at heart she had only ever wanted to study. There were few things that vexed her more than being unable to solve a magical problem - especially when the life of someone she cared for hung in the balance. She would be disappointed, and frustrated, and more than anything, she would have felt awful for letting Varian down.

Much as Anduin himself did.

"Jaina, I know you did your best," Varian rumbled gruffly, in a half-hearted attempt at consolation.

He sighed, and rubbed a weary hand over his eyes.

"It hardly matters, in any case," he added grimly. "Worst storm in years, apparently. We're not going anywhere until it passes. Not unless I want to risk more lives."

"I heard the scouts say as much," Jaina agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Anduin was lucky to land when he did."

"I've had Captain Harrington recall his men, and we will redeploy to Duskwood the moment this storm becomes passable," Varian affirmed.

"I will help with portals, of course," Jaina said quickly. "It will be faster, that way."

Varian nodded shortly, and began to rap his fingers along the line of the balustrade in an irritable staccato. His brow was heavily furrowed, and he appeared to be struggling with something deep within himself.

"Varian?" Jaina prompted gently.

"She gave him back to me, Jaina," he murmured. "Auri gave herself up for my son. I can never repay her for that."

Jaina winced in sympathy, and she reached out to still Varian's frantically tapping fingers.

"Would you expect any less of her?" she said quietly. "This is the woman you're going to marry, Varian, is it really such a surprise that she would protect your son just as you would?"

"'Going to marry'..." he repeated bitterly, pulling roughly away from Jaina's touch. "That seems a little unlikely at this point, don't you think?"

Varian began to pace up and down the hall outside Anduin's room, making the timber floor groan beneath his heavy footfalls. Anduin knew his father was prone to bouts of depression, and in the current circumstances, he could not blame Varian for his melancholy. Jaina, however, seemed determined not to let him wallow, and she followed his movements with blazing blue eyes.

"Auriana is smart, skilled, and probably the toughest woman I've ever met," she argued. "It's going to take a lot more than a few sellswords to stop her."

Varian whirled, his face like thunder, and for a split second Anduin thought he might start shouting. He had a temper at the best of times, even when the woman he loved  _wasn't_ in mortal danger, and Anduin found himself subconsciously bracing for the storm of his father's rage. What he saw instead was far more terrifying, however, as Varian's mighty shoulders simply sagged, and he buried his face in his hands.

"I just want to hold her in my arms," he whispered brokenly.

Jaina's face fell at the quiet, heartfelt desperation in his voice, and Anduin could tell she was fighting back tears to see her friend so undone. She tentatively reached out towards him, as if to off him the comfort of her embrace, but Varian abruptly waved her off with a firm shake of his head. He was not one for sympathy, and his brief moment of vulnerability vanished as quickly and unexpectedly as it had appeared. His weathered face hardened, and in an instant he was once more the cold and intractable King of Stormwind.

"I'm going to go brief the guards. We need to be ready to move when the storm breaks," he growled, shaking himself slightly. "Anduin should be done bathing by now. Will you see to him for me?"

"You're not going to talk to him yourself?" Jaina asked, clearly surprised.

"You know me. I'm not... good… at this sort of thing," Varian admitted awkwardly. "The boy's been through a terrible ordeal… and I don't have the slightest idea what to say to him."

"Tell him that you love him," Jaina suggested.

"Anduin knows how I feel," Varian argued gruffly, though he didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Does he?" she prodded gently. "He was forced to leave the woman you love alone and unprotected in the woods. No doubt he feels terrible."

"He's my son, Jaina! He means more to me than anything in this world," Varian growled, slamming his fist hard against the balustrade for emphasis. "There is nothing he could ever do that would change how I feel about him! Nothing! Not even if… if I lost  _her_."

Varian looked away, breathing heavily, and Anduin's heart twisted with indescribable emotion. He could count on one hand the number of times he had actually heard his father verbalise his feelings, and he found himself unexpectedly misty eyed to hear the strength of Varian's unconditional love. Deep down, he had always feared that his father would be perpetually disappointed in him, and despite everything, he warmed to hear his brooding, irascible father express himself so passionately.

"Just… talk to him, Jaina," Varian said gruffly. "Please."

He turned his back on her without another word, and stomped off down the stairs to the makeshift command centre. Jaina shook her head sadly as she watched him go, and took a few moments to compose herself before straightening and heading right for Anduin's room.

Gulping nervously, he took a few steps backwards, and waited patiently for her to knock before he opened the door. He didn't have to wait long, fortunately, and he tried to appear as nonchalant as possible as he opened the door to let her in.

"Hello, Aunt Jaina," he greeted her, with all the innocence he could muster.

"So," she said wryly, putting her hands on her hips, "I'm assuming you heard all that?"

"Er… yes…" Anduin admitted, ducking his head guiltily. "Sorry."

While  _Varian_  may have been oblivious in his distraction, it seemed that Jaina remained as sharp as ever. She did not seem to disapprove of Anduin's eavesdropping however, and merely looked concerned as she stepped carefully past him and into the room. Anduin watched her closely as she made her way over to the cracking hearthfire and held out her hands for warmth, vaguely noting the way the firelight turned her hair a pale, shimmering gold. She looked rather wan, though whether from the chill of the storm or the stress of recent events, he couldn't tell.

Anduin closed the door quietly behind him as Jaina warmed herself by the fire, and he moved to stand awkwardly in the centre of the room. For once, he had no idea what to say, or how to explain the turbulent and conflicting swell of emotions in his heart. He was grateful beyond belief to be somewhere safe and warm, and to be back under the watchful eye of his father, but he would have also traded it all to know that Auriana was still alive. The frantic adrenaline that had sustained him for the past two days was gradually wearing off, and he hated himself more with each passing second.

_I shouldn't have left. I should have fought, I should have found a way..._

"Are you alright?" Jaina asked, her soft voice snapping Anduin out of his rambling reverie.

"No," he said truthfully. "I don't… he blames me. How could he not?"

"Oh, no, Anduin, he doesn't," Jaina insisted, the corners of her eyes crinkling with compassion. "You heard us talking; you heard what he said. He  _loves_ you."

She turned away from the warm hearth and took a seat on the edge of the bed, gently indicating for Anduin to join her. He was reluctant; at once craving the comfort of another human being, whilst simultaneously knowing that he deserved no such kindness for his actions. Jaina's gaze was quietly insistent, however, and he eventually moved to take a seat by her side.

"I never should have left," he mumbled, staring pensively down at his hands.

"From the sounds of it, you didn't have much of a choice," Jaina reasoned.

"I don't know… maybe I did," Anduin murmured. "She ordered me to leave, but… I didn't want to. D-did I do the right thing?"

A distinct note of pleading entered his voice as he glanced sideways at Jaina, though he couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the eye.

"Auriana is a very experienced tactical commander, Anduin," she said reassuringly. "If she told you to leave, she did it for good reason."

"A  _good reason_? She did it to save me!" he choked miserably.

"I happen to think that's a very good reason," Jaina countered firmly. "And I'm sure Auriana feels the same."

She reached out to take his hand, and ran her thumb comfortingly across the ridge of his knuckles. Her fingers were soft and cool, and Anduin could not resist the urge to grasp at her like he was drowning. Tears pricked his eyes once more, and he sniffled as he desperately tried to fight them back.

"Anduin, what's wrong?" Jaina asked worriedly.

"All of this!" he cried. "I-I'm worried about Auri..."

"I understand, but… are you sure there isn't something else?"

Jaina was one of the most perceptive people that Anduin had ever met, and he realised there was little point trying to hide things from her. Her boundless empathy was one of the things that had made her such an excellent diplomat… at least before Garrosh Hellscream and his True Horde had turned it against her in the most brutal way imaginable.

Still, Anduin hesitated, and it was a long time before he finally gathered the courage to speak.

"I killed a man, Jaina…" he confessed darkly. "He had Auri cornered in a cave… he was going to choke her death… Light, he nearly did. She was calling for  _me_ , I was the only one there… It was like something took over me. There was anger, and the Light… and then he was gone."

He bent his head in shame, and he wondered if Jaina would rebuke him. She was no stranger to violence, but their shared love of peace had always been one of the defining characteristics of their relationship. To admit that he hadn't be able to find another way broke his heart, and he wondered if Jaina would be yet another person rightfully disappointed in him.

To his surprise, however, Jaina said nothing, and instead pulled him in to rest gently against her chest. Anduin came willingingly, burying his face against the crook of her shoulder, and he shook wildly as all the pain and fear and tension of the last few days finally came crashing down all around him. Jaina held him tightly against her body, her presence at once both gentle and steadfast, and she ran her fingers soothingly through his hair as he sobbed.

"W-why do people always want to tear things down?" he lamented, his voice muffled slightly by cloth of Jaina's blouse. "M-my father and Auri… they're good people. They don't deserve…  _this_. They don't deserve to lose one another."

"I wish I had an answer for you, Anduin," Jaina whispered sadly. "After Theramore… I spent countless hours wondering how  _anyone_ could do something so terrible. How anyone could tear apart so many lives."

Anduin felt her fingers tremble where they still lingered in his hair, and her back went rigid with beneath his hands. Theramore was a topic that they had rarely discussed, largely because Anduin had no desire to cause his aunt more pain than she had already suffered. He knew she had worked hard to overcome the trauma of losing her city, but he also knew that some wounds ran too deep to ever be truly healed. Time helped, of course, as did the comfort of friends and lovers, but Jaina would carry the echoes of Theramore with her for the rest of her life.

"Did you ever figure it out?" he asked tentatively.

"I'm not sure. It might be one of those things that we can never truly understand," she mused. "But when I attempted to destroy Orgrimmar… I realised I was acting out of fear. I think fear, more than anything, drives us to do our worst."

Her voice was quiet, contemplative; though it distinctly lacked the undercurrent of anger that Anduin might have expected, given the topic of conversation. If anything, Jaina simply sounded sad and distant; speaking as if she were recalling the dull memory of a phantom limb that had been lost long ago.

"We all carry many fears. Fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of insignificance… fear of being alone," she added. "Garrosh Hellscream was many things, but at his heart I think he was a coward. The destruction of Theramore was an act of cowardice."

"I k-killed that man out of fear," Anduin mumbled. "I don't think I've ever been so afraid in my life."

"Perhaps… but I think you also acted out of love," Jaina suggested. "You acted to save the life of someone you cared for. There's no shame in that."

"Are you so sureure?" Anduin asked disbelievingly. "I was shaking so badly I could barely move, and that man, I…"

"You love her," Jaina said firmly. "Not in the same way as your father, of course, but you do."

It was true, Anduin thought, he did, though he had never really spent much time reflecting on his feelings for Auriana. It was strange, perhaps, given that he was a naturally introspective person, but he supposed that he hadn't dared hope to see his father truly happy and whole again, let alone have another potential parental figure come into his life.

"Honestly, I didn't realise how important she was to me until I thought she was about to die, right in front of me…" he agreed slowly. "It's not just about Father, either. She's  _my_ family, too."

He pushed himself upright, and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Jaina released him gently, and she gave him a soft, sad smile.

"Sorry," he mumbled, gesturing to the wet stain on her blouse where he had rested his face.

"It's quite alright," she assured him. "Now. That's enough maudlin talk for one evening, don't you think? It's about time you got some sleep."

"I should wait up… what if there's news?" Anduin protested weakly, though the thought of falling back against the pillows and disappearing into the sweet, uncomplicated blackness of sleep was admittedly very tempting.

"Anduin. You have been through an awful lot in the last two days - both physically and emotionally," Jaina rebuked him gently. "You need to rest."

"But…"

"But nothing," she repeated, her tone allowing no room for argument. "You're a healer. What would say to yourself, if you were your own patient?"

She arched a pale eyebrow, and from the slight smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, it was clear that she knew she had him.

"I would… tell me to get some sleep," Anduin sighed defeatedly.

He scowled slightly at having been so handily outmaneuvered, but nevertheless lay back and plumped the pillows beneath his head. For her part, Jaina rose gracefully to her feet, and gently pulled a blanket up over his shoulders. The bed was comfortable and warm, certainly more so than the cold, hard floor of a cave, and Anduin almost immediately felt his eyes begin to droop.

"Jaina… would… would you stay?" he asked shyly. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

A strange expression crossed her face, and for a second he thought she might refuse; though a moment later she moved to sit on the unoccupied side of the bed. She reached out to take his hand once more, and she held it tightly as crushing exhaustion finally overtook him.

"Sleep, Anduin. I'll watch over you," she murmured, her words sounding fainter and fainter as Anduin slowly drifted away. "You are safe, and loved. I promise you, you are safe…"


	23. Auriana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! As of this chapter I now have the entire 'Lion of the Alliance' series cross-posted to A03. I will be updating both platforms simultaneously from now on.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has followed this series, whether on FF and A03, I'm eternally grateful for your feedback and support.

After Auriana had watched Anduin disappear into the storm, she had immediately turned and set off toward the east, hoping to fool the assassins by suggesting that they were heading for Darkshire. Unlike before, however, she was not all too careful about hiding her tracks or remaining silent, intending as she did to present herself as the easier target. Of course, she really  _was_  the easier target, encumbered as she was by multiple injuries and a plague of hallucinations, but she was willing to do whatever it took to keep Anduin safe.

Still, even if she had resolved to give her life up for Anduin's, Auriana did not intend to go quietly into the night. If someone wanted her dead, they could damn well work for it, and she was determined to lead the assassins on for as long as possible. Admittedly, 'as long as possible' might have not been very long at all, given her current state, but Auriana stubbornly pushed her sore and weary body on blindly through the forest as fast as she could.

Determination could only sustain her for so long, however, and eventually Auriana was forced to stop. She drew to a halt at the edge of a small clearing, and doubled over as she tried to catch her breath. Her shoulder ached from both the arrow wound and the magebane, and the temptation to simply lie down in the mud and go to sleep was strong. Nevertheless, Auriana was not the kind of person to give up, even when pushed to her very limits, and she was just about to force herself to start moving again when she saw a patch of trees on the other side of the clearing shift and part with someone's passing.

Auriana immediately flattened herself against the base of the nearest oak, and she fought to control her suddenly shaking hands as she peered warily out into the darkness. Just ahead of her, perhaps only thirty yards away, she could just make out the shadow of a humanoid figure prowling swiftly through the trees, and her heart leapt into her throat. The figure was too small to be a feral worgen, thankfully, though the thought that gave Auriana little comfort. It was far more likely that she had just stumbled on one of her pursuers, and Auriana figured it was only a matter of time before he made her.

She bit down hard on her lip as she tried desperately to think of a plan, when something enormous and sinuous suddenly moved in the corner of her eye. Auriana stifled a gasp, and sighed as she realised she was still hallucinating the slightly haughty looking blue dragon. It was a strange feeling; even as her mind reminded her that there were no blue dragons around for thousands of miles, her eyes insisted that the large, serpentine creature was real. She blinked and shook her head, trying to clear her vision and focus on the real problem at hand, but the imaginary dragon refused to cooperate. It stretched out its wings, almost as is if it were laughing at her, and leapt high up into the branches of the closest tree.

Auriana glanced upwards, scowling fiercely at the figmental dragon, when she was struck by sudden inspiration. She may have been struggling to stay lucid, but it seemed that while her hallucinations were decidedly irritating, they could also be useful. She slicked back her soaking wet hair and made a futile attempt to dry her hands on her equally soaking wet pants, before turning around to grasp a low-hanging branch that hung just behind her head.

With a colossal effort, she heaved herself up into the lower branches of the tree, and pulled her boot knife free as she settled into a low, predatory crouch. Auriana may not have had magic, or strength, or a proper weapon, but she had been fortunate enough to spy the assassin before he had spotted her, and she was determined to turn the element of surprise to her advantage.

Auriana watched the assassin closely as he stepped behind the shadow of a wide tree, and realised that she was going to lose him in the darkness of the forest. Ideally, she would have preferred to let him go, but she could not allow him to become an unknown quantity when he had already come so close to finding  _her_. Instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself, before very deliberately reaching forward and snapping a thick twig in half to catch his attention.

As expected, the assassin's head whipped around immediately at the sound, and Auriana prayed that the dense foliage of the tree was enough to hide her. She held her breath as the man very slowly began to walk closer, carefully drawing his sword as he went. He was an older man, and missing an eye, though Auriana didn't doubt that he was still a deft hand with a weapon. A mercenary's life was a hard one, and generally only the best could manage to live as long as this man had. Auriana knew she would only get one shot, and she gathered her muscles in preparation for the leap.

Auriana licked the rain from her lips, and waited patiently until the assassin was just barely a foot away before she threw herself wildly out of the tree in his direction. She landed heavily on his back, and immediately plunged her knife into the man's throat with as much force as she could muster. Fresh blood spurted over her hands, but she struck over and over again until she was certain that the man was dead. His last breath rattled in his throat as he pitched forward, and together they tumbled down hard against the soaking wet ground.

The whole thing had barely taken a minute, and yet Auriana felt as if she had been fighting for hours. Her chest heaved from the effort, and she lay gasping on her back for several long moments before she was able to collect herself and roll to her knees. She wiped her bloody hands off on the dead man's pants, before frantically rifling through the stash of equipment he kept secured to his wide belt. Like most rogues, he travelled light, but he was still carrying a number of very useful items. In addition to a frankly excessive variety of daggers and thumb knives hidden all about his person, he also had a compass, some dried jerky, and a length of rope. Best of all, he had a full skein of fresh water, and Auriana took a few precious minutes to quench her thirst before cramming her coat pockets with jerky and throwing the rope over her shoulder.

 _You can't stay here,_  she told herself.

No doubt the scent of fresh blood would attract the hunting dogs, though she doubted they would have much luck tracking her in the storm. The tempest had seemed to grow worse and worse the longer the night wore on, and Auriana soon realised that she couldn't possibly keep going. Even someone uninjured and fresh would have had trouble navigating the whipping winds and near-zero visibility, much less someone suffering from hallucinations, poison, and an arrow wound, and she decided the safest option would be to bunker down for the night.

Auriana forced herself into a slow, shambling run once more, but this time she had barely made it a few hundred yards eastward before her legs quite literally gave way, and she fell to her knees with a grunt. Apparently, this was as far as she was going to get, at least until she had had some rest, and she reluctantly began to look around for something resembling shelter.

Unfortunately, Auriana could see no caves nearby, and nor did she trust her ability to keep travelling in the wild weather any longer. She swore quietly under her breath, pointedly ignoring the illusory dragon that continued to laugh at her as it looped in and out of the trees, when she realised that it had once again provided her with a potential solution. She would not be safe from assassins or predators on the ground, but the highest branches of a tree, she might be able to get at least part of a night's rest.

Auriana walked for another hundred yards before found a suitable oak, with enough low hanging branches that she could start climbing. Her arms were burning by the time she had finished her second climb that evening, her wounded shoulder protesting the entire way, but she managed to pull herself up so that she was resting on a broad, flat branch about halfway up the tree. She used the rope she had taken from the dead assassin to secure herself to the trunk, less she fall off during the night, before at long last she settled back to eat the dry and rather distasteful meat jerky.

It was much more peaceful up here, even beautiful, watching the storm from beneath the shelter of the great tree; though the rain still trickled down between the branches and sloshed in her boots. She was not comfortable, certainly, though uncomfortable was a damned sight better than dead. Anduin, she hoped, had managed to make it for the Rebel Camp before the storm had truly reached its peak - or worse, before he was found by whatever assassins were still stalking the forest.

If Auriana were being honest with herself, she had been truly surprised that he had killed a man, even if he had done so to save her life, and she wasn't sure he had it in him to do it again. She had been around death almost her entire adult life, and yet Anduin had been the first person she had ever met who had seem truly untouched by the chaos of life on Azeroth. Auriana appreciated what he had done, of course, but she was also worried that he would come to resent her for having been forced to take such drastic measures.

_Not that it will matter much if you're dead…_

She shivered as a sudden squall whipped through the trees, and pulled Anduin's borrowed coat tighter around her body. Soaked as it was, it offered her little warmth, but she supposed it was better than nothing. She finished off the last of the jerky, and her eyes began to droop as sheer exhaustion overtook her. Auriana had been running on pure adrenaline for nearly two days, and despite the cold, the rain, and the agony that was her back, she finally fell into a fitful and troubled sleep.

Her dreams were dark and tormented, but she remembered little save for a lingering sense of unease that persisted even after she was roused by a low, angry growl from somewhere nearby. She quickly shook herself awake, and carefully peered over the edge of her branch to see three assassins standing in a small clearing about twenty yards south of the tree in which she was currently hiding. There were two men; one broad and large, and the other lean and wiry; who were soon joined by a slender blonde woman with a cruel face. They were each of them armed to the teeth, and they all moved with the practiced wariness of trained killers as they surveyed the clearing for any sign of movement.

Auriana instinctively held her breath, afraid as she was that even the slightest sound would attract their attention. The storm had eased overnight, and while it was still raining, she knew it was no longer loud enough to hide her from assassins quite as completely as it had before. She did, however, lean forward silently, and she strained to listen into their conversation over the pelting of the rain and distant roar of thunder.

"That bitch shanked Rowley!" the burly man was saying.

His face contorted with fury and disbelief as he contemplated the loss of his compatriot, and Auriana felt no small measure of satisfaction to have sent at least  _one_ assassin to his grave.

" _What_?"

"Rowley's dead, about four hundred yards back that way," the burly man elaborated, pointing. "She opened his throat from ear to ear. Thorne ain't gonna be pleased. He was one of our best trackers."

Evidently, they had been spread out through the forest, when one had found Auriana's victim from the night before. Auriana figured they must have been out hunting very early in the morning to have tracked her so far in this direction, and she cursed herself inwardly for having slept so long. Of course, she  _was_ pleased that Anduin seemed to have escaped their clutches, though they now had  _her_ very effectively trapped. There was no chance she could climb out of the tree and slip into the forest without being noticed, nor could she hope to repeat her ambush from above, and the best she could do was pray that they moved on quickly.

"How the hell did she get the drop on him?" the other man wondered. "She's got to be half dead by now, thanks to those tipped arrows."

He glanced over at the blonde woman for assurance, but she did not seem to be listening.

"Boys?" she said slowly. "I think you'll find that 'getting the drop on him' is  _exactly_ what she did."

Her eyes abruptly flicked upwards, and in a moment of sheer horror Auriana realised that that the female assassin knew  _precisely_ where she had been hidden all along. The woman's face lit up with sudden triumph and she licked her lips delightedly, as if actually tasting Auriana's fear.

"Come on down, Archmage," she purred, nocking her bow to emphasise the point. "We've been looking for you."

Auriana sighed reluctantly, but she knew she had little choice. She reached down and slipped the small knife from her boot, never taking her eyes off the huntress and her poison arrows, and cut herself free of the rope securing her to the tree.

"Drop the dagger, please. Nice and slow," the woman added. "We don't need any accidents."

Auriana complied, though she wasn't sure why the woman hadn't just shot her outright. Still, every second she was alive was another second that she could fight, and she certainly wasn't going to argue the point. As requested, she dropped the dagger point first into the soft earth below, before slowly clambering down through the branches and turning to face her assailants.

"Kill her," the wiry man urged, the moment Auriana's feet had touched the ground. "This job has been trouble enough as it is."

"I'd be happy to open to open her throat," the other man offered, pulling his dagger from his belt with a savage smile.

"No," the blonde said calmly. "You all know what Thorne wants. A clean kill. Minimal damage. It's going to have to look like orcs killed her, not us."

 _Orcs_? Auriana wondered, but she had no time to speculate further as the huntress lifted her bow to point the arrow squarely between Auriana's eyes.

"Wait! Whatever you're being paid, I'll double it," she said hurriedly. "I'm sure we can all be reasonable."

It hurt to speak, but Auriana didn't care. Fighting three against one would obviously get her nowhere without her magic, and she decided it was worth at least trying a page from Anduin's book. Talking people around had never been a particular skill of hers, but things were happening far too quickly for her liking, and she had to at least do  _something_. Unfortunately, not a one of the assassins looked impressed by her offer, and none of them moved to lower their weapons.

"Nice try, Archmage," the woman scoffed, "But it's a bit more complicated than that."

She drew back her bowstring in a single smooth movement, and Auriana's heart stopped.

"No!"

Auriana raised her hands in front of her face as the assassin's fingers twitched, and prepared herself for the blinding flash of pain that would signal the end of her life. Surprisingly, however, the shot never came. Instead, a fierce howl ripped through the forest, and a second later an enormous grey wolf came flying out of the storm with its teeth bared. It slammed into the wiry assassin with tremendous force, and tore off his face before the man even had time to scream.

"What the..."

Auriana instinctively stumbled back, certain that she  _had_  to be hallucinating, and she tripped as her foot caught on an unearthed root. She landed heavily on her backside in the mud, her eyes widening in shock as three more wolves raced out of the darkness of the trees. They fell on the two remaining assassins in a feeding frenzy, snapping violently at every bit of exposed flesh they could find. The blonde woman was the fastest to react, but even she only managed to get off one wild shot before she fell to the overwhelming ferocity of the pack. Each wolf took surprising delight in tearing the three assassins apart, and Auriana looked away in distaste as they soaked the forest floor with blood.

It was only after the three assassins were well and truly dead that the pack seemed to remember that she was there, and Auriana inhaled sharply as four sets of pale, glowing eyes turned towards her in as one. The dark grey alpha growled deep within his chest, and Auriana scrambled backwards as he padded slowly towards her. She inhaled sharply, expecting to feel the sharp sting of fangs in the soft flesh of her throat, but instead the enormous beast simply sniffed curiously at her boots with a gentle whine. His muzzle was stained with the dark, sticky blood of the assassins, though he seemed to have no interest in eating Auriana. He cocked his head to the side, studying her face with an almost human air of curiosity, before he let out a loud howl and loped back off into the forest with the rest of his pack at his heels.

Auriana closed her eyes, her heart thundering wildly in her chest as she tried to figure out whether she had simply imagined the whole bloody scene. When she opened her eyes, however, the mangled bodies of the three assassins still lay lifeless on the forest floor before her. The pack of wolves were nowhere to be seen, though Auriana had no other rational explanation for the deaths of the three assassins. Certainly  _she_  had not been capable of killing them with such violence, but she could not understand why the wolf pack would have slaughtered the assassins, only to leave her alive.

Her speculation was cut abruptly short, however, as another howl echoed through the forest from somewhere to the east. The sound lacked the deeper resonance of a wolf's cry, and Auriana realised that there must have been more assassin's out in the forest - along with their hounds. The amount of blood pooling between the three dead bodies in front of her was considerable, and she knee that even the rain and the mud would not be enough to dull the scent.

As if to confirm her suspicions, another hound answered from the west; then a third from the north-east. Each sounded uncomfortably close, and Auriana guessed that it would not be long before she was very effectively pinned between multiple groups of hunters.

 _Dammit,_ she sighed wearily.  _Time to run again._

It nearly killed her just to stand, but Auriana reached deep inside herself, and somehow found the strength to drag herself to her feet and lurch off into the forest once more. She could no longer head for the east, west, or north, and so instead she turned reluctantly to the south. It was not the direction she would have preferred, but it was clear that she had little choice in the matter. Anduin  _should_ have had enough of a lead to have found his way to safety, and she couldn't help but to wonder whether she, too, might be able to make it to the Rebel Camp alive.

Auriana was surprised to find that she was closer to the border with Stranglethorn than she had anticipated; reaching the rocky ridge that divided the forest from the jungle with about a quarter of an hour of half-limping, half-running through the forest. The hounds bayed wildly behind her the entire time, their harsh voices singing louder and closer with every passing minute, and she did not hesitate for a second to throw herself up the steep, rocky hill that led to Stranglethorn.

Her heart was racing by the time she reached the top of the ridge, but she could not afford to stop now, not with the hounds so close. Of course, such a thing was easier said than done, given that it was getting harder and harder to move, and Auriana's knees began to shake as she contemplated the harrowing descent down the leeward side of the ridge.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the seething, untamed green jungle below, when Auriana felt a strange prickle of warning roll up her spine. Curious, she glanced back over her shoulder, and inhaled sharply in fright as she saw a tall humanoid figure standing out in the open at the bottom of the ridge. Strangely, the figure waved, though Auriana very much doubted that its intent was friendly, and she didn't intend to stay around long enough find out.

Auriana dived off the top of the ridge without hesitation, though deep down she knew there was very little point in continuing to run. The assassin who had seen her had been far too close, and was very likely fresh and unencumbered by serious injury. Still, Auriana could not help but to fight until the very last, and she bullheadedly pressed on down the side of the ridge and out into the dense jungle. It was lighter here than in the Duskwood, though the storm continued to rage wildly through the trees. Stranglethorn also seemed even more claustrophobic than the twilight forest she had left behind, and Auriana felt as if a thousand eyes were watching her back as she fled deep into the endless green.

She had no particular plan or destination in mind, and her only concern was putting as much distance between her and the man she had seen at the bottom of the ridge. It was completely by chance, then, that she found herself stumbling into the darkness of a small cave, just barely catching herself against the slick stone walls of the entrance as her legs trembled and buckled.

For a second, Auriana thought she might have found a place to hide, or even a path by which she could double back and evade the assassin, but unfortunately, she had no such luck. It was a dead end, with not even enough room to hide effectively, and worse, it was inhabited. At the very back of the cave, three small panther cubs were huddled together out of the rain. The largest snarled piteously as Auriana stared down at them in surprise, but it was not game to do more than halfheartedly swipe a paw in her direction.

Auriana was hardly an expert, but she guessed that the cubs were rather young, and certainly not yet old enough to fend for themselves - or they would have been, if they were in fact as real as they looked, and not yet another hallucination. Their mother must have left them to gather food, though Auriana doubted she would leave them alone for very long, especially in the storm. It was reasonable, then, to assume that the pantheress must have been somewhere close by… and idea began to slowly coalesce in her weary mind. It was a long shot, of course, but while  _Auriana_ was not in any condition to fight off an assassin, a panther defending her cubs was a very different story...

_Assuming you can buy yourself time._

A sudden sound at the cave entrance drew Auriana's attention, and she knew immediately that she had been found by the man from the ridge. She turned away from the cubs, and her jaw clenched as a shadowed human figure stepped into view.

It was quite difficult to see anything under the storm-darkened sky, but Auriana could nevertheless make out a tall, rangy man with peppered hair and a crooked nose looming at the entrance of the small cave. Unlike the other mercenaries she had encountered, however, who were clearly weapons for hire, he appeared both cleverer and more confident, and he held himself with the air of a man used to being obeyed. Oddly enough, he also looked somewhat familiar, though Auriana was more concerned by the wickedly sharp dagger at his belt, than with where they might have crossed paths.

 _Stall him_ , she thought grimly.

The assassin moved across the cave entrance slowly; his movements both tightly controlled and predatory. He stared her in the eye the entire time, though his hand never once moved towards the brutal weapon at his hip. It was, Auriana knew, a very deliberate attempt to increase her fear, though she naturally refused to give him the satisfaction. She forced herself to stand up straight, ignoring the shooting pain in her back, and squared her jaw as she waited for him to strike. To her surprise, however, the assassin simply looked delighted by her defiance, and he began to quietly applaud as he stepped fully into the shelter of the cave.

"I'll give you this, Auriana," he said, shaking the rain from his dishevelled hair, "You really are the most stubborn woman I've ever met. You've lead us on quite the chase."

The assassin smiled with an eerie joy, and realisation struck Auriana like a bolt of lightning as she remembered where she had seen him before. He had the same too-wide and not entirely sane smile of the bomber she had encountered in Stormwind… and something more. The arrows in the quiver at his back were fledged in the same distinctive fashion as the one that had pierced her arm only a few months before, and were identical to those used by the group on Draenor who had tried to frame the Alliance for the death of Vol'jin. The man also wore a small, silver fox head insignia on his right lapel, and Auriana knew it would be a perfect match to the one she had given to Shaw after the incident. The 'Defias', she realised, had been merely a ruse to throw SI:7 off the scent, and her original instincts had been correct. She may have hampered the warmongering group's operations on Draenor, but it seemed they were not yet done, and had merely found new targets in Anduin, and in Auriana herself.

"I do my best," she retorted, her voice still raspy from the damage to her throat. "Although in this case, you have me at somewhat of disadvantage. You know my name… but I don't know yours?"

"And that's your only disadvantage, you think?" the assassin asked curiously, though he pointedly avoided answering her question.

"More or less," she answered, shrugging tiredly.

"Light, look at you!" he roared approvingly, the sudden loudness of his voice making Auriana jump. "You can barely stand, and yet you're  _still_ determined to find a way to defeat me. You take hit after hit, and you just keep on coming. No wonder Wrynn fell for you. You're the scrappiest little dog in the fight."

"Admittedly, that's not the worst thing I've ever been called," Auriana conceded wearily.

His sudden bellow had frightened the litter of kittens hidden in the back of the cave, and one of them mewed anxiously. The assassin did not seem to notice, however, though Auriana prayed that somewhere oit in the storm, their mother had...

 _Keep him talking_ , she reminded herself.  _It's your only chance._

He was right, of course, she was struggling to stay standing, but she had seen a chance to live, and she was determined not to let it slip through her grasp. Not to mention that on the off chance she  _did_  survive this whole mess, the information the assassin provided might be quite useful. He was clearly not all there, and she suspected that he might be more forthcoming with her than one of his underlings might have been.

"We've met before," she ventured.

It was a little bit of a gamble, given that she couldn't remember having seen  _him_ , specifically, during the attack on Draenor, but she was certain that the arrows and the fox marked him as one of those who has attempted to assassinate Vol'jin.

"Ah, yes… did you enjoy my little bombs?"

"Time of my life," Auriana quipped, "But that's not what I meant. You were on Draenor. You tried to kill Vol'jin. It took me a while, but I recognise those arrows. And that insignia."

She nodded towards the silver pin on his chest, and a very strange expression crossed the man's face. His eyes widened imperceptibly, and Auriana realised she had caught him off guard. Evidently, he has believed her fooled by his fake Defias, and had not expected her to remember Draenor. He recovered himself quickly, however, and soon regained his unnervingly confident smile.

"I'm flattered you remember. I thought you too busy fighting alongside that Horde scum to notice," he said smoothly.

"Oh, I remember… though I don't recall leaving anyone alive out there that day," she countered.

"I've been in the spy game a long time, Auriana. I know when a situation is heading south," he explained. "I thought it was prudent to withdraw myself so that I might fight another day. You are a formidable opponent, and I will admit, I underestimated your strength. Twice, in fact. Hence…"

He reached up and ran his fingers through the fletching of one of the magebane-tipped arrows in his quiver, and Auriana growled.

"Frustrating, isn't it? To be without your magic?" he gloated, his lips twisting cruelly. "You want to burn me alive, I can see it in your eyes. Going to show me some of that legendary rage, are you?"

Auriana would have dearly loved to wipe the smirk from his face with a burst of white-hot fire, or even with her bare fists, but she held herself in check. Her rage would not help her in this  _particular_ circumstance, and she needed to conserve what little strength she had.

"Hardly. Despite my seemingly endless bravado, you and I both know I'm just about done for," she snorted. "Besides, you took my magic. What am I going to do, get all riled up and kick you in the shins?"

"I'll admit, part of me would like to see you try," the assassin conceded wryly. "Your reputation is well deserved."

"I would thank you, but… you've been trying to kill me for the better part of a year," Auriana replied, with a harsh smirk of her own. "Still trying to start a war between the Alliance and the Horde, I assume?"

"I'm a persistent man, Auriana. I won't bore you with my motivations; I doubt you would care," he growled quietly. "Though I promise you this - I will have my war, and the Horde will be broken."

His fingers twitched unconsciously towards his dagger, and for the first time Auriana saw genuine emotion flicker across his sharp features.

"Unfortunately,  _you_  will not be around to see Stormwind and the Alliance triumph. Your death is necessary to secure Wrynn's… cooperation."

"Your plan is not going to work," Auriana snapped, with a great deal more confidence than she actually felt. "Varian knows all about your plotting. He's not going to blame the Horde for  _your_ actions."

"Is that so?" the man smirked skeptically. "Let me tell you something about orcs, Auriana. Dull, dirty, creatures, the lot of them… but they  _do_ have an unrivaled talent for savagery."

"They're not the only ones," she snarled fiercely.

"True, very true, my dear," he laughed. "Believe me, I would have preferred to use your talents… but alas. One must work with what one has."

He paused, and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"I happen to have a pack of Kor'kron at my disposal," he elaborated. "Stupid creatures. They think they're playing me... they think they will win the war for Azeroth… but we both know better, now don't we, Auriana?"

He grinned, his face stretching somehow even wider than before, and his eyes shone with the fervid madness of a true fanatic.

"Orcs do have their uses, however. I'm going to hand you over to them, you see. I'm going to let them beat you, and rape you, and… well, do just about anything they like with you, really," he sneered gleefully. "And when they throw your mutilated corpse before the gates of Stormwind, Varian Wrynn isn't going to give a damn whether they officially represent Horde or not. He's going to exterminate every last filthy orc in existence."

Auriana bit her lip and looked away, feeling sick. Not for herself, she was not afraid... but as much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that the smiling assassin was absolutely right. Varian had grown immensely over the years, and had learned to take a far more nuanced view of the Horde, but he would never forget the atrocities his people and his family had suffered at the hands of orcs. Even with all the evidence in the world denying Vol'jin's knowledge of an attack, Auriana knew that her death would break Varian utterly - especially if she were slaughtered in such a brutal and dramatic fashion. Lo'Gosh would be unleashed, and he would never,  _ever_ stop killing until she was avenged.

"And you'll be there to help him, of course," she muttered bitterly.

"Of course! What kind of upstanding citizen would fail to support his king in the wake of such a unprovoked tragedy?" the assassin asked, frowning in mock compassion.

His face was remarkably expressive, and Auriana suspected that he could be rather charming if he so chose. But no matter how much he smiled, the warmth never quite reached his eyes. Something dark and unhinged slithered behind his false sympathy, and Auriana knew in that moment that this was a man capable of doing  _anything_  if it meant getting what he wanted.

"Alright… so you need me dead to provoke Varian," she reasoned grimly. "Why go after Anduin, then?"

"I would have preferred to kill the boy, actually," the smiling assassin admitted. "He's weak, and a blight upon his father's name. You, on the other hand… you have such a spectacular gift for violence; it's quite incredible. Watching you fight my men that day in Draenor… I don't think I've ever seen  _anyone_ with such raw talent."

Strangely enough, he seemed to be honest in his praise, but Auriana was having none of it.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she scoffed.

"It's not flattery, rather the simple truth," he said earnestly. "Really, you should consider me a fan."

"And yet… here we are," Auriana said sarcastically, spreading her arms so as to indicate the futility of her current situation.

"Well, that's the thing, isn't it? Anduin isn't here. You are, and I will not allow you to escape again," he swore, though there was a note of genuine disappointment in his voice. "Your head is also worth considerably more to me, financially speaking."

Auriana blinked, and it took her addled mind a few moments to realise what the assassin was truly saying. Securing passage to Draenor, planting bombs in the Keep, faking a Defias encampment… all these things took skill, and planning… but they also required  _money_.

"Son of a  _bitch_!" she spat, her hands clenching into fists. "You're working with Rohas Anguile. I  _knew_ he was involved, I  _knew_ it! Though I can't say I ever considered the possibility that he would throw his lot in with a group of domestic terrorists."

"Terrorists? You wound me, Auriana," the assassin pouted, placing his hands over his heart as if she had physically wounded him. "Such a nasty word. I prefer 'revolutionaries'. Much more poetic."

"Anguile is bankrolling you. He'd never get his hands dirty by coming after me himself," Auriana muttered, only half listening. "But he's more than happy for you to kill me for him. That  _coward_."

The assassin made no attempt to deny the allegation, and instead tapped the side of his nose suggestively.

"For what it's worth, I agree with you. He is a coward, albeit an exorbitantly wealthy one," he said lightly. "I would prefer to avoid working with a man of his ilk, but as it turns out, financing a mercenary army is surprisingly expensive."

"Oh, you poor thing," Auriana sneered, finding it hard to muster any sympathy for a man who was so willing to tear apart so many lives. "So what was the deal? He gets my head, and you get a war?"

"More or less. Anguile cares very little for my politics. He was never going to join me on ideological grounds, but he genuinely  _hates_ you," the assassin explained. "And I... saw an opportunity. You were the price for his support, and one I was willing to pay. I'm sorry, my dear, I hope you understand it's nothing personal."

Lightning flashed again, reflecting off the blade at his side, and Auriana vaguely wondered how she  _wasn't_ supposed to take multiple attempts on her life personally.

"So let me get this straight," she surmised, with a roll of her eyes, "Anduin and I die, and Varian goes to war with the Horde. He needs another heir, so Anguile...  _conveniently_ shows up to save the day by brokering a marriage between Varian and his daughter. Why not just offer her hand to Anduin, then? It seems an infinitely simpler way of getting what he wants."

"Funny you should say that. I once asked him the same question," the assassin grinned. "In short, Anguile thinks him weak. Thinks him unfit to marry his precious daughter, just as I believe he is unfit to sit the throne. Certainly, he must be done away with if Wrynn is to reach his full potential."

Auriana had heard such sentiment expressed about Anduin before, and it angered her every time. He may not have been a battle-hardened warrior like Auriana or his father, but certainly the last few days had proven that he had an unshakeable strength all his own. His  _faith_  was his strength, and Auriana would be damned if anyone would disparage him in front of her.

"I will not let you hurt Anduin," she hissed, with all the venom she could muster in her weakened state.

"You won't have any say in the matter," the assassin assured her patiently. "You'll be dead long before I have another chance at the boy. I would have preferred to kill both of you today, naturally, but no matter."

The thought of losing Anduin made Auriana's already throbbing head hurt, and she took a few deep breaths to reminder herself that he was safe. The smiling assassin was clearly happy to gloat, and she had no doubt that he was telling the truth when he said that he had not found Anduin.

"Oh, and kill me or not, Varian would never choose  _her_ ," she added flatly, mostly to herself. "No matter the circumstances."

"Actually, I rather agree. Anguile's an idiot if he thinks Wrynn would wed that wet blanket of a daughter of his, but far be it from me to ruin his little fantasy of seeing his grandchild on the throne of Stormwind," he said, shrugging.

"Why would you? That fantasy keeps him compliant," Auriana realised.

"Quite correct, my dear," he said approvingly. "I think you might understand the game better than you let on."

"No," Auriana snarled. "I will  _never_ understand why people like you do what you do. There is enough horror in this world without the need to manufacture more."

The assassin's genial mask slipped at her words, and real rage kindled behind his eyes for the first time. He might play at sanity, she realised, but it his true self lurked only inches below the surface. No matter how cordial he seemed, he  _was_  a killer, and Auriana knew that her ability to keep him stalled was rapidly diminishing.

"I do what I do  _for_  this world!" he insisted passionately. "The Horde are a plague! Stormwind must claim its rightful destiny as the ultimate power in Azeroth!"

"You don't actually want a throne, do you?" Auriana realised abruptly. "You couldn't care less for Anguile's political scheming."

"I prefer to work from the shadows, yes," the assassin agreed, nodding to himself as he began to pace back and forth across the entrance to the cave. "Besides, Wrynn is a good king, and a better warrior. He has the ferocity and skill to conquer the entire world, if only he were not shackled by a pesky sense of morality, and that pacifist son of his."

"A sense of morality is not a  _shackle_ ," she insisted passionately. "And the Horde are not our enemies."

The assassin looked surprised, and any remaining respect he had for her seemed to vanish in an instant.

"How are you so willfully  _blind_?" he snarled. "Not our enemies? The Horde are the first and last enemy of mankind. There will  _never_ be peace on Azeroth until they are destroyed."

He looked at her askance, and his disappointment was palpable.

"I would have thought you, of all people, would understand that."

"A few years ago, I might have agreed with you," Auriana admitted. "But I've changed."

"Ah, yes," he sneered. "When you met your little troll friends."

He said the word 'troll' with dripping disdain, and Auriana rankled. She had not thought to find allies in the Horde, it was true, but Zala'din - and even Vol'jin - had surprised her, and it irked her to have her friend's brave service in the Draenor campaign dismissed purely because of  _what_ he was.

"That has nothing to do with it," she said lowly.

"Then  _why_?" he prompted, and he seemed genuinely confused. "Why do you insist that they have a right to live?"

It was a question that Auriana had asked herself many times since Draenor, and she still wasn't sure if she had a good answer. Fighting alongside Zala'din and seeing the inner workings of the Horde first hand had given her a new perspective, though she wasn't sure she could quite put her feelings into words. Still, the smiling assassin was looking at her expectantly, and she figured it would buy her a little more time to try.

"Because they're just… people," she said slowly. "I'm not afraid of them. You want to know what scares me? The Burning Legion scares me. The Old Gods scare me. Fallen titans and Light knows what else is out there waiting to eradicate us all… those things scare me. But not the Horde. Do I  _trust_  the Horde? No. Certainly not all of them… I would never put my life in Sylvanas' hands, for one… but that doesn't mean that waging a genocidal war is the right answer! To anything!"

"I know your story," the assassin growled. "Your parents died at Theramore. You dishonour them with your cowardice."

He took a menacing step toward her, and Auriana instinctively moved away. The cubs behind her mewed again, disturbed by her movement, but the soft sound was all but swallowed up by a sudden crack of thunder. Their mother still was nowhere to be seen, and Auriana feared that her admittedly desperate plan was doomed to fail.

"I stood against Archimonde the Defiler in single combat," she snapped angrily, trying to keep the assassin distracted. "I'm hardly a coward."

"Very well, I'll give you that one," the assassin conceded. "But in the matter of the Horde? You are a fool, girl, if you don't think they would turn on you the moment your back was turned."

His voice grew suddenly melodic, almost seductive, and he gazed down at Auriana with surprisingly soft eyes.

"What would your mother say, Auriana?" he murmured passionately. "Would she not urge you to destroy her murderers? You have the power. You know you do."

Once again, he was right, though the thought made Auriana uncomfortable. Varian had asked her essentially the same question, once, and she had not been lying when she said had the ability to destroy a city like Orgrimmar. She was not Garrosh Hellscream, however, and would never resort to such a cowardly attack. If she were to win a war, she would win it honestly.

"What would she say if I were to perpetuate a holocaust? I would think she would be rather disappointed in me, actually," she retorted confidently.

"As am I," the assassin replied sadly, and his mask of confident calm snapped back into play with unerring swiftness. "It seems we cannot agree. A shame. I was enjoying our conversation."

He finally moved to withdraw the long, slender dagger from his belt, and Auriana knew the game was up. There would be no more stalling, and there was nothing and no-one coming to save her. Her fingers twitched instinctively, unwilling as she was to go down without a fight, but this time, she truly had no way out.

She was alone.

"I suppose all good things must come to an end," she sighed quietly.

"Indeed. Much like your life," the assassin agreed, though he sounded sincerely remorseful. "You should rejoice, my dear. Your death will ensure Stormwind's ascendancy as the dominant power on this earth."

"Oh, I'm  _so_ proud," Auriana muttered sarcastically, defiant to the last.

Her stubbornness in the face of imminent death made the assassin smile once more, but it apparently did nothing to dissuade him from his grim task.

"Time to die," he said simply.

Auriana braced herself for the death blow; straightening her back and wishing a silent goodbye to Varian. Her palms were sweaty with anticipation, but strangely, she felt no fear or regret. She had done as much as she could to save her own life, but more importantly, she had saved Anduin, and that alone meant  _everything._

Auriana permitted herself one last, small smile of satisfaction as the assassin stepped forward with an air of grave finality. Time seemed to stop as she took her final breath, though she refused to look away as the assassin raised his blade. Lightning blazed across the sky behind him as the dagger began to fall with agonising slowness… and Auriana's heart leapt with sudden, wild hope as she realised that he was no longer standing alone.

"You first," she snarled triumphantly.

She threw herself hard against the cave wall, trying to appear as small as possible as a huge, glistening panther suddenly materialised in the stormy shadows behind the assassin. Water dripped from the feline's massive, bared fangs, and it let out a roar of pure, savage fury as it gathered its sleek muscles and leapt. The assassin whirled with surprising swiftness, and Auriana was afforded a brief, satisfying glimpse of fear and genuine surprise on the man's face as two hundred pounds of angry feline came flying at his face. She did not pause to watch, however, as man and beast went tumbling past her in a tangle of limbs and fur. Auriana's only thought was of escape, and she used her last, desperate surge of energy to dart around the two primal combatants and out into the rain.

Auriana pushed herself into a panicked sprint, angling herself up across a long ridge that stretched south from the cave, though once again she suspected that there was little point in running. There was a chance that the assassin would defeat the panther, and come after her to finish what he had started. Even if he  _were_ killed, there were at least a thousand other things in the jungle that wanted to eat her, and she had little hope of defeating any of them in her current state.

Still, Auriana ran; flying through the jungle with her heart pounding with adrenaline, and a speed that belied her exhaustion. Wet foliage whipped at her face as she fled, and more than once she stumbled over a thick vine or fallen branch. It also didn't help that most of the jungle was the same flat, endless green colour that seemed to get darker the longer she ran. The panicked strength she had used to flee the cave was rapidly diminishing, and her pace gradually slowed to a delirious and drunken stumble; so much so that she almost ran headfirst into the broken trunk of a lightning-struck tree.

She lunged to the side at the last second with a strangled shout, narrowly avoiding losing her head to the fallen behemoth, when her left foot hit a patch of loose soil on the side of the ridge. The storm had softened the ground to the point where it was almost crumbling away, so much so that even Auriana's minimal weight was enough to cause a collapse. She only had time to gasp as the ground gave way beneath her feet, and her stomach dropped as she went tumbling off the side of the ridge and crashed her way spectacularly to the bottom.

Auriana groaned in agony as she finally came to a bone-rattling stop, and she panted heavily as she fought to control the pain. She was now lying in a muddy pool at the base of a lush valley, and if she thought she had been in trouble before, she was quite sadly mistaken. Her left wrist was now quite clearly broken, bent impossibly to one side as a result of her fall, and she strongly suspected that she had cracked several ribs as well. The wound on her back burned as if it were on fire, and she could quite literally  _feel_ the magebane insidiously leeching away what little energy she had left. She had done so much to get this far, surviving against impossible odds, but it seemed that the fall had at last beaten the fight out of her. She had no more luck, or clever tricks, or even the energy to keep her eyes open, and at long last, she truly resigned herself to her fate.

 _Anduin is safe_ , she once again reminded herself, as she used the very last of her strength to prop herself up against the base of a nearby tree.  _That's all that matters._

It was not Anduin that she thought of as her eyes gradually began to close, however, but rather his fierce and passionate father. Auriana had never thought to know a love like Varian's in her lifetime, and despite all that had happened, she wouldn't have traded their time together for anything in the world - not even for her own life. A thousand little moments played before her eyes as she slowly slipped into the peace of unconsciousness, and the rest of the world faded away until there was only  _him_. She remembered the slow, pleased smirk that crossed his face when he caught her admiring his form as they fought in the arena… heard the steady, comforting beat of his mighty heart as she lay upon his chest… felt the lengths of his hair tangle between her fingers as he made love to her with exquisite tenderness…

"Varian…"

Auriana whispered his name into the rain, hoping against hope that he truly knew how much she had loved him; and with a soft sigh, she leaned back into the tree, and finally went still.


	24. Varian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Winter's Veil! An enormous thank you to everyone who has read or commented on this story this year, and I hope you have all had a wonderful holiday season! I've uploaded this chapter simultaneously with the chapter on FF.net, and will continue to do so in future. Enjoy!

 

The storm worsened as the night grew longer, and with it fell Varian's hopes of finding Auriana sooner rather than later. Anduin was upstairs, at least, but while his return would have ordinarily given Varian great comfort, he instead found himself staring pensively out the window of the Lion's Pride inn as the rain poured down. The taproom was mostly empty now, his men having holed up for the night to wait out the storm, leaving Varian largely alone with his brooding thoughts. He was grateful to have his son returned to him, of course, more grateful than he could ever say, but he would not be truly whole until Auriana was also safe.

If she were even still alive.

"You look like you could use a drink."

Varian glanced back over his shoulder, and saw Broll standing a few yards away with a glass of whiskey in his hand. The archdruid looked about as bad as Varian felt, though he seemed more concerned with Varian's wellbeing than his own. His golden eyes were sharp, worried, and he seemed to be expecting Varian to snap at any moment.

Strangely, however, Varian simply felt  _tired_. He was angry, certainly, his anger borne of a terrible fear for Auriana's life, but more than anything he felt weary. For the first time in nearly twenty years, he had permitted himself to believe that he might at last know true, simple happiness; might once more have a complete, loving family… and yet it seemed that the very  _moment_  he had dared to believe, fate had once again conspired against him.

Varian did not know what would happen if Auriana were lost to him. He would be  _strong_ , probably, because kings were  _strong_ , and because he refused to be anything less for the sake of his son, but inside he doubted that he would ever truly recover. The thought of never seeing her again made his heart ache, and his hands began to shake ever so slightly as he accepted the whiskey from Broll and slumped down into a nearby chair.

He placed the drink on the table before him, lest Broll spy the tremor in his hands, though he didn't particularly feel like taking a sip. That was not to say that Varian had never turned to alcohol for comfort in the past - quite the opposite, in fact - but in the current circumstances, drinking away his pain seemed even more hollow a solution than it usually did.

Instead, he closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair as he lost himself in thoughts of Auriana. He could recall her scent as easily and as clearly as if she were sitting right beside him; the intoxicating wildflower aroma of her skin having been burned into his memory for all time. By this time of time of night, he and Auriana would have normally been in bed, perhaps talking quietly by the light of the dying fire, or holding one another close as they each drifted off to sleep…

It was only when Varian heard the scrape of the chair leg on the wooden floor that he remembered Broll was still there, and he opened his eyes to see his old friend staring pensively back at him. Broll had the expectant look of someone who wanted to talk, and Varian reluctantly supposed that he owed the archdruid for his earlier churlishness.

"So," he said grudgingly, "Is anyone going to tell me why the three of you were out in Elwynn in the first place?"

Broll coughed a little into his own drink, and he lowered his antlers.

"Auriana was… apprehensive… about accepting your proposal of marriage," he said slowly.

"Funnily enough, I had noticed that," Varian sighed, trying and largely failing to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Admittedly, Auriana's earlier hesitation meant very little to him at the present moment, though it had stung at the time. He frankly didn't give a damn what her answer was now, so long as she was returned to him safe and whole.

"Anduin and I were concerned," Broll continued.

"About her?" Varian asked, pensively swirling the whiskey around in his glass.

"About you, actually."

" _Me_?"

"Can you imagine what you would have been like to live with if she had said no?" Broll asked, with an skeptical arch of his long, green eyebrows. "The task of consoling you would likely fall to me and Anduin, would it not?"

"Bah," Varian growled, though Broll wasn't too far off the mark. "So. You were trying to convince her to say yes?"

"I would not try to convince her to do something against her will, and nor would Anduin," Broll replied quickly. "Though it appeared to me that she did not doubt  _you_ , but rather herself."

Varian had found it difficult not to take Auriana's hesitation personally, but he knew Broll once again had a point. He was certain that Auriana loved  _him_ , but sometimes he wasn't sure if she really had any love for  _herself_. It baffled him, given how dazzling she truly was, and he had long desired to give her a mere minute where she could see herself through his eyes.

"You might be onto something there," he conceded gloomily.

"In any case, I thought to use a druidic ritual to help guide her decision," Broll explained. "Very similar to the ritual you undertook with the worgen."

Varian was hardly an expert in druidic magic, but suddenly Auriana, Broll and Anduin's journey to Elwynn made a lot more sense. Broll's powers were likely strongest out in nature, free from the stone confines of Stormwind Keep, and while Varian did not condone their decision to travel out of the city unescorted, he could at least now understand the logic behind such a choice.

"Did it work?" he asked, reluctantly curious.

"I think it was useful for her, yes," Broll said slowly.

He suddenly seemed to have a lot of trouble meeting Varian's eyes, and he stared down into his drink as if it were the most interesting beverage he had ever seen.

"Spit it out, Broll, tonight is not the time to test my patience…" Varian grunted.

"I am not trying to vex you, my friend, only I am not sure whether it is my place to say," Broll said slowly. "But… given the circumstances…"

He sighed, and after a few moments of deep thought, he finally lifted his gaze to stare evenly across the table at Varian.

"For what it's worth… she intended to say yes," Broll sighed, his quiet voice barely audible over the roaring of the storm outside.

For a moment, Varian wasn't sure if he had heard Broll correctly, though he subconsciously straightened in his chair as a wave of fierce, terrifying hope rippled through his chest.

"She… she said that?" he asked, his throat going dry. "If that's a joke, Broll, it's in very poor taste…"

"I would never joke about something so serious, Varian," Broll assured him fiercely. "She declared her intent to wed you, only moments before she was… before she was… shot. You can ask Anduin if you don't believe me."

His golden eyes glowed even brighter in sympathy, and he reached out tentatively to rest his hand on Varian's forearm. Varian, however, pulled away, and he leaned back with a long, shaky sigh. If he had ached to have Auriana back before, it was nothing compared to how he felt knowing that she had intended to accept his proposal. It shouldn't have made a difference, perhaps, but somehow it made him want her back even more than he already did, and he suddenly found it difficult to sit still.

Varian abruptly lurched to his feet, and paced back and forth across the taproom in a futile attempt to quell the agitated shaking in his legs. He felt like a caged animal, howling for release, but he knew he could not lead a search party out into the storm without seriously risking his own life, or the lives of his men. Waiting was the rational thing to do, of course, the  _right_  thing, and yet his anger and frustration grew exponentially with every second the rain continued to pour.

_She would have said yes._..

"We will leave as soon as the storm breaks," Varian resolved determinedly, even as he fought back the overwhelming instinct to bolt from the inn. " _Nothing_  will keep me from her."

"You should get some rest, then," Broll suggested, taking another weary sip of his drink. "We both should."

"You can, if you like, but I can't. If something happens, I don't want to be caught sleeping," Varian insisted, grinding his teeth in agitation. "Rousing me could take time that Auriana simply doesn't have."

"Varian…"

"It's hardly the first night I've ever gone without sleep, Broll," he argued flatly. "I'm surprised you don't remember."

Broll snorted, and shook his great antlers with a small, rueful chuckle.

"I remember all too well," he agreed. "I also remember that a lack of sleep did little to improve your sparkling personality."

Varian looked back over his shoulder, and despite everything, he couldn't help but to acknowledge Broll's weak attempt at humour with a slight snort. Broll's steady friendship had seen him through some of the very worst times in his life, and although Varian knew he had been gruff and churlish over the last few days, he  _was_ glad that he had not had to face his current calamity entirely alone.

"You're injured," he observed quietly. " _You_  should get some sleep, even if I do not."

Broll's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms carefully across his broad chest. He followed Varian's every move with the practiced gaze of a trained hunter, and his expression was far too knowing.

"I fear that if I leave you alone, you'll go charging off into the night with no plan and no backup, like a damned fool," he said wryly.

"You really think I'm that stupid?" Varian snorted, though it was plain to both of them that he had seriously considered doing exactly that.

"Yes," Broll said bluntly, though his voice was warm. "When it comes to the people you love, you're the daftest man I know."

He finished the last of his drink, and lumbered painfully to his feet. It was clear that his injuries were bothering him greatly; so much so that Varian paused his incessant pacing in concern.

"But… if you insist," Broll begrudgingly conceded. "I will get some rest, on the condition that you wake me before you leave."

"No," Varian said firmly. "You've not coming."

A flicker of great sadness crossed Broll's lean face, and his mouth drew into a thin, troubled line.

"Varian…" he started gravely, "I know I was not able to protect your mate and child before, but I swear..."

"You misunderstand me," Varian said swiftly, cutting Broll off with a raised hand. "Anduin needs to return to Stormwind, and I want you to escort him. As brave as you are, you are also injured. I don't… I don't want to lose you, too."

He felt stiff and awkward, expressing his feelings so plainly, but he did not want Broll believing that Varian's faith in him had been shaken. His earlier anger had been the result of his shock and fear upon learning that Anduin and Auriana were missing, and he did not truly blame Broll in the slightest. They had all believed that the threat had passed, Varian included, and certainly none of them had believed the mysterious assassins would be so determined as to find a way to nullify Auriana's magic.

Fortunately, Broll was not one prone to gushing displays of open affection, and he accepted Varian's unspoken apology with a simple nod.

"You haven't lost anyone, Varian, not yet. Auriana is a fighter. She will be found, I am sure of it," he insisted. "But… perhaps you are right, and my talents may be better served elsewhere. It would be my honour to escort Anduin home. I will protect him as if he were my own."

"I know you will," Varian said gruffly. "You always have."

He gestured towards the stairs.

"Get some sleep, old bear," he added firmly. "By order of the High King."

To emphasise his point, he gave Broll a very slight glare, and the archdruid chuckled tiredly as he turned and limped away. Varian watched him closely as he left, and did not look away until he was certain that Broll did not require any assistance getting upstairs. Only then did he turn back to his drink, downing the fine amber liquid in a single swig, before making his way over to the window once more, to watch and wait alone.

* * *

 

The storm broke a few hours after dawn, and Varian was practically champing at the bit as he waited for his guards to wake and arm themselves for the hunt ahead. It was still cold and drizzling, but the worst of the wild winds and driving rains had passed. Of course, Varian cared little for a bit of water, given what he had to lose, and he brushed his wet hair dismissively from his eyes as the last of his guards came to assembly outside the Goldshire inn.

Broll and Anduin had waited in the warmth of the Lion's Pride, as Varian had requested, though Anduin had made his displeasure at being left behind abundantly clear. Shaw and Jaina, however, were present, their faces grim and determined as they moved to stand at Varian's side. Shaw was armed to the teeth, every inch of his body covered in daggers and throwing knives, while Jaina fairly crackled with her own invisible power. More importantly, she also carried the antidote to the magebane poison, which Auriana would need soon if she were to survive. Varian, of course, had Shalamayne, and he reflexively reached for the familiar comfort sword's hilt as he beckoned for Jaina to open a portal to southern Duskwood.

Jaina remained silent as she called upon her considerable magics, and a few seconds later a large, swirling portal resolved in the space between her hands. She made to step through the portal the moment it had finished forming, but Varian held her back with a firm hand on her shoulder. He shook his head in warning, and wordlessly pushed past her so that he might enter the portal first.

Varian felt the familiar prickle of arcane magic race up his spine as Jaina's portal spell took hold, and after a moment of weightlessness, he stepped out into the dull grey dark of Duskwood. It was still raining lightly, much as it was in Elwynn, though the natural twilight of the Duskwood made it far more difficult to see. The canopy overhead was oppressively dark and gloomy, and the creaking tree branches looming out of every corner of the darkness reminded Varian uncomfortably of a thousand grasping hands.

He moved to the side so that the rest of his companions could step out of the portal, and raised a hand to shield his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings. To the south, he could just make out the steep ridge that separated Duskwood for Stranglethorn Vale; though the trees in every other direction were all but indistinguishable from one another. According to Shaw's calculations, Auriana should have been with a square mile or two of their current location, but Varian didn't doubt that he could walk right by her in the heavy forest and never notice.

"Harrington. Send your men off to the north, south, and east. Shaw, Jaina, and I will take a fourth group south towards Stranglethorn," he ordered, beckoning to the captain of his guard. "Be careful. I have no idea how many assassins are out in this forest. Aim to capture rather than kill, if you can."

Varian remembered only too well the last time he had encountered one of the mysterious assassins face to face, during the raid on the 'Defias' camp in Westfall. At the time, he had allowed his anger to get the best of him and had killed an assassin who may have been able to provide information, but he would not be goaded into making the same mistake twice.

"That said, our first priority is rescuing Auriana," he added sharply. "All other considerations are secondary."

Varian's men saluted crisply, and quickly split off into their respective search parties. Their movements were smooth and practiced, and Varian felt a distinct surge of pride race through his veins as he watched them seamlessly organise and disappear into the trees. His satisfaction was short lived, however, as he immediately focused in on the grim task at hand.

It was Shaw who lead the way south, prowling through the forest with the stealthy, sharp-eyed grace of a nightsaber. He was followed by a half dozen guards, who fanned out in the forest behind him, with Varian and Jaina bringing up the rear. Jaina walked almost uncomfortably close by Varian's side, and he tried very hard to ignore the small, furtive looks she sent his way. Evidently, she felt that he might run off and do something stupid at any moment, and Varian vaguely wondered if Broll had given her a warning before their departure.

Traipsing through the dense forest was extremely slow going, however, and Varian grew more irritated with every minute that they failed to find even the slightest sign of Auriana. Duskwood was not conducive to tracking even at the best of times, and the rain had not helped in the slightest. The ground was still slick and muddy, and any tracks or footprints Auriana may have left would have likely been washed away by now. There were numerous bent and broken branches throughout the forest, of course, but it was difficult to tell if they had been broken by a fleeing human, or by one of the dozens of abnormally large creatures that inhabited the Duskwood. Varian's heart leapt the first few times he caught sight of something that may have lead him to Auriana, but as the day wore on, he slipped inexorably down into hopelessness.

The small group had been searching for what felt like days before Varian's growing despair finally got the better of him, and he abruptly drove his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree with a furious howl. The bark splintered and broke beneath his knuckles with a satisfying crack, but the violent action did nothing to relieve the seething fear that had taken hold of his heart. Jaina flinched away from him in shock, and the entire search party immediately stopped and turned around to stare at him.

"Varian…?"

She quickly waved for Shaw and the rest of the party to keep moving, and pulled Varian aside so that they might speak out of earshot of the others.

"What was that all about?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"We are getting nowhere, Jaina!" he snapped. "We've been wandering around these damn woods for nearly two hours now, and we're no closer to finding Auriana! The other groups have not found her either! There has been no signal… no  _sign_ …"

"Varian…" Jaina counselled patiently, "Don't lose hope. Auriana would never give up on you. You cannot give up on her."

"You don't know the first damn thing about what Auriana would do!" Varian roared. "You don't know her, none of you know…none of you  _understand_  what she is to me… she's… she's…"

He broke off with a feral snarl, clenching and unclenching his massive fists as he wrestled mightily with the urge to throw another punch at the tree.

"Varian. Stop," Jaina beseeched him, struggling to hide the flash of very real fear in her eyes. " _Please_. Just... stop."

The temptation to ignore her was strong, and he would have dearly loved to give into his rage. But there was something in Jaina's quiet plea that reminded him of Anduin, and Varian reluctantly choked down his wild fury. His chest heaved with the effort, and for a long while he and Jaina simply stared at one another through the rain.

"You can find her, Varian," she said finally, her voice quiet and urgent. "Think. As you said, you know Auriana better than anyone. If you were her, where would you go?"

Varian growled low in his chest, but he nevertheless forced himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath. At first, he could hear nothing but his own frantic, agitated heartbeat roaring in his ears, but the simple act of breathing allowed him to tune into the heightened senses that he had all but forgotten in his desperate need to find Auriana. The overwhelming drum of his heart slowly faded as he began to really  _feel_  the forest all around him; from the soft squelch of the muddy earth beneath his boots, to the crack of a twig as a deer flew down a nearby game trail, and the salty tang of the rain upon his lips. The earthy scent of petrichor mixed with the musty smell of decay that lingered throughout the entire forest, and beneath it all, something else tangy and oddly metallic...

Varian's eyes snapped open, and he inhaled sharply.

"What is it?" Jaina asked.

"Blood," he hissed, "And lots of it."

In a single smooth movement, he ripped Shalamayne from its sheath and charged off through the undergrowth, heedless of anyone else around him. He heard Jaina call his name, but if there was the slightest chance the blood he smelled belonged to Auriana, he wasn't going to stop.

Hundreds of tiny branches whipped at Varian's face as ran, though he barely even felt the sting. Now that he had taken the time to refocus, he could see a faint gap in the trees about three hundred yards ahead of him, and he sprinted towards it at full speed. The scent of blood grew stronger with every step, and it became almost overwhelming by the time Varian lunged desperately into the clearing.

He raised Shalamayne defensively the moment he burst clear of the treeline, only to immediately pull up short as he realised that whatever calamity had struck this clearing, the danger had long since passed. Three bodies lay at the centre of the small glade, though they no longer looked all that human. Each corpse had been torn violently limb from limb, and the entire clearing was soaked in dark, sticky blood.

Varian's mouth went dry as he cautiously approached the three bodies, and he prayed that he would not find Auriana amongst the dead. He crouched down beside the nearest corpse, and hesitantly flipped it on to its back. Shockingly, the corpse's entire throat was gone, leaving nothing but an empty, bloody hole. It's face was all but torn off, but Varian could now see enough to realise that the body was male - as was a second, larger corpse that lay about a foot away. The third corpse, however, was smaller and most likely female - but thankfully still too large to be Auriana.

A branch snapped somewhere in the forest behind Varian, and he turned his head. He reached instinctively for his sword, only to relax a moment later Jaina, Shaw, and the rest of his men burst into the clearing with their weapons raised. Jaina's upper lip curled distastefully as she beheld the bloody scene, but she nevertheless came over to cautiously prod one of the corpses with a booted foot. Shaw, on the other hand, was entirely unfazed, and he barely even blinked as came to crouch at Varian's side.

"What happened here, do you suppose?" he wondered.

"Wolves," Varian guessed. "See the teeth marks? Here, and here. I'm guessing this lot ran afoul of a whole pack."

"Duskwood  _is_  a notoriously hazardous place. Perhaps they underestimated the danger," Jaina suggested.

"Perhaps… although it's strange that they weren't eaten, or dragged back to a den," Varian mused. "This much flesh would feed a whole wolf pack for at least a week."

"Curious indeed…" Shaw agreed.

His eyes narrowed suddenly, and he reached over to the female corpse to carefully extricate a long arrow from the grisly remains of her body. He ran a gloved finger over the sticky tip, before holding the shaft out to Varian for inspection.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Magebane?"

"Dammit," Varian growled, recognising the foul black substance all too well. " _She_  must have been the one who shot Auriana."

He sat back on his heels as a wave of fresh anger raced up his spine, when he abruptly caught sight of a knife hilt protruding from the bushes beneath a nearby tree. He scrambled to his feet in an instant and lunged forward, and his heart raced with wild, impulsive hope as he ripped the small blade from the mud.

"She was here…" he breathed.

"Varian?"

He whirled back to face Jaina, and thrust the knife towards her, hilt first.

"Look! This belonged to Auriana, I'm certain of it," he explained.

"Are you sure?" she asked skeptically. "It looks like a standard hunting knife to me, it could belong to any…"

"I'm sure," Varian snapped, his tone allowing no room for argument. "I've seen her put on her armour a hundred times. It's hers. She kept it in her boot."

"There's blood on the blade," Shaw observed, coming up to inspect the knife for himself.

"Maybe she used it to defend herself," Varian suggested. "She's strong… she's a  _fighter_ …"

He secured Shalamayne against his back once more, and began to pace frantically around the outside of the clearing as he scoured the area for any other sign of Auriana's presence. His men fanned out around him, aiding in his search without any need for orders, though Jaina and Shaw seemed more hesitant to take the knife as absolute proof.

"You think she defended herself… from a pack of wolves? With a  _knife_?"

"She might have stumbled on the dead assassins later, after the wolves had left," Varian guessed, though he didn't much care to stand around theorising. "Look, I don't know what happened, but she  _was_ here. She… there!"

He let out a sudden shout as his sharp, predatory gaze fell upon a patch of clearly broken undergrowth to the south, and beneath it the hint of a very small human footprint in the mud. The indentation was faint at best, but Varian could still make out a pattern of ridges consistent with the tread of a boot.

"She came this way," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

He couldn't have precisely said why, but he  _knew_  that Auriana had been here, as surely as he knew that it was raining, or that he was standing in the Duskwood. Anduin had experienced similar feelings before, but Varian did not think that his certainty was borne of the Light. This was instinct, pure and simple, and he chased it blindly through the trees until he reached the very edge of the Duskwood.

_She ran to Stranglethorn…_

The border ridge loomed suddenly steep and dark above him in the rain, and Varian realised that Auriana must have climbed out of the forest and into the jungle. It made sense, of course - she had sent Anduin south to the Rebel Camp, and if she had seen the dead bodies of the assassins who had been attacked by wolves, she may have also seen her own chance to escape.

Varian did not wait for Jaina, Shaw or the others to catch up, instead starting the ascent on his own. He trusted them to follow, regardless of whether they truly trusted his instincts in turn, and he did not fear anyone or anything that he might encounter on the other side of the ridge. It was a reckless choice, perhaps, but he didn't care. The thought that Auriana might be barely a few hundred yards away from where he now stood spurred him on, and he climbed like a man possessed.

Even with the cold drizzle, Varian was sweating by the time he reached the top of the ridge, but there was no time to catch his breath. He slid down the other side without a second thought, and came to a stop deep within the verdant depths of Stranglethorn jungle. Ahead of him, he could see a faintly worn path running along the base of the ridge to the west, and he decided it was as logical a place as any to start.

Varian traversed the trail slowly, not wanting to miss a single clue as to Auriana's whereabouts, but he found no further trace. The mud was much deeper and softer here in the dense rainforest, and had been churned up by the storm so badly as to make tracking someone all but impossible. Still, Varian pressed on with a single minded determination, and he followed the twisting trail until he stumbled upon the entrance to a small, dank cave.

Much to his alarm, the ground outside the cave was splattered with blood, and it was much fresher than the blood Varian had scented in the Duskwood. The ground itself was disturbed, too, as if a great struggle had been fought just outside the cave entrance, but from what he could see, the cave itself was shallow and completely empty. It made sense to him that Auriana would have tried to take shelter from the storm, but if she had ever been here, he reasoned, she was now long gone.

Varian swore, and took a brief moment to wipe the water from his eyes and regather his turbulent thoughts. He was still  _certain_  that he was close on Auriana's heels, but it seemed that he was doomed to always be one step behind. He sighed, his frustration slowly building once more, and he again found himself struggling to control his agitated breathing. He was alone for only a moment, however, as Shaw, Jaina, and the guardsmen finally caught up to his position and burst out of the jungle on the trail behind him. They were all panting heavily, even Jaina, and Varian vaguely realised that they must have been forced to run flat out to catch up to him.

Unsurprisingly, Shaw was the first to notice the blood, and he immediately began to scrutinize the wider area with sharp eyes. He started with the cave, but quickly moved on as he, too, realised that it was too small to conceal anything of importance. He shifted his attention instead to the bloody ground, muttering under his breath as he carefully assessed the mysterious scene.

"Well, the blood trail leads that way," Shaw said finally, pointing toward the west. "Down towards the river. Shall we follow?"

The path branched off about a dozen yards from the cave entrance; the broader part continuing downhill towards the west, while the narrower section lead into the deeper jungle to the south. Varian followed his spymaster's line of sight, but a slight prickle in the back of his mind told him that he was looking in the wrong direction. He didn't know if it was something he had seen, or heard, or whether it was an unconscious scent that pulled his attention, but every instinct in his body was now  _screaming_  at him to turn to the south.

"No. You take the men and follow the blood trail, but I'm going this way," he ordered slowly, though the words lacked some of his usual conviction.

"Varian?" Jaina asked curiously. "Are you sure? If the blood leads that way…"

"I have… a hunch," he explained lamely, though now that he was looking down the southern path, he once again swelled with the same irrational, giddy confidence that had struck him in the Duskwood.

Jaina, however, was less convinced.

"A hunch?" she exclaimed, running both hands through her unusually disheveled hair. "You're going to risk Auriana's life on a  _hunch_?"

Varian considered Jaina's words seriously. She had a good point, he knew, as she usually did, but he also suspected that this might be one of the rare times when she was wrong. His instincts had brought them this far, and as foolish as it may have seemed to Jaina - hell, as foolish as it seemed to  _him -_ he somehow knew that he had to try.

"What do you want me to say? I can't explain it," he muttered irritably. "Which... is why Shaw will cover the western trail, just in case."

Varian nodded briefly at his spymaster, before turning off down the southern path. Somewhat to his surprise, however, Jaina chose to follow him instead of Shaw, and together they followed the faint path that lead down a small ridge to the south. The going was rough, but the further Varian travelled, the more he began to suspect he was going the right way. The wet foliage that lined the path was often broken or bent out of shape, as if something had forcibly pushed past, and more than once he caught a glimpse of an indent in the muddy ground that may have been a footprint. His breath came in short, sharp pants as he began to increase his speed, only to come to an abrupt halt as he spied a small landslide that had sent half the path ahead of him sliding down into the ravine.

"Woah!" Jaina yelped, and Varian grunted slightly as she slipped in the mud and collided with his back.

He reached out a hand behind him to steady her, before carefully crouching down to inspect the landslide. The ridge had simply sheared away, as if sliced from above by a giant sword, and he could see small branches and rocky debris scattered all the way down the hillside. The bottom of the valley was at least fifty feet below; a seething mass of vines, creepers, and lush, wet foliage… and something else...

Varian lunged for the edge of the ridge with sudden, frantic interest, and his throat went dry as he finally caught sight of a small, familiar booted foot protruding from behind the base of a gnarled tree.

"Auriana!" he bellowed.

His booming voice echoed across the valley as he threw himself off the side of the ridge, heedless of a shouted warning from Jaina. He slid down the hill on the side of his thigh, controlling the speed of his descent with one hand while he held Shalamayne firmly in its sheath with the other. His pants were soaked through with mud by the time he reached the bottom, but he didn't care.  _All_  that mattered was Auriana, and he tore violently and heedlessly through the jungle as he closed the last few dozen yards between them.

She was slumped bonelessly against the base of a large tree, her head lolling limply against her right shoulder. Worryingly, she looked all but dead - and Varian was apparently not the only one who had noticed. He was so focused on getting to Auriana that he almost missed the enormous Stranglethorn tiger lurking in the bushes on her other side; the beast delighted to have stumbled upon what appeared to be easy and unsuspecting prey. Varian only saw a flash of teeth at the last second, and he roared in both surprise and fury the massive animal gathered its muscles and leapt for Auriana's throat.

" _No_!"

Varian had not come this far to lose Auriana now, and he would be damned if she would end her life as a  _snack_ for a tiger. Without pausing or breaking stride, he reached for Shalamayne with two hands, and hurled the blade end over end towards the leaping beast. It was a mighty throw, perhaps possible for only a handful of men in the world, and yet the sword landed with unerring precision just off the tiger's right flank.

Instead of cowering before Shalamayne, however, the tiger roared a challenge, and immediately settled into a low crouch to defend its prize. Evidently, it saw Varian as a competitor for its lunch, and it was not willing to give Auriana up without a fight.

"Have it your way, then," he growled.

The tiger roared savagely in answer, its sleek and powerful muscles gathering in anticipation as it prowled through the jungle to Varian's right. He went the other way, cleverly placing himself between the beast and Auriana as he slipped free his two long belt knives. They circled one another slowly, the wolf and the tiger, each carefully assessing the other as they stalked around in a wide circle. The tiger was larger, of course, and more heavily built, though Varian was smarter; and more than that, he was fighting to protect the woman he loved.

Varian's scarred eyes narrowed as the tiger abruptly snarled and leapt, and he held his nerve before the beast's flashing fangs as he waited for the perfect moment to step to the side. The tiger was fast, but Varian was faster, and he had years of experience fighting all manner of opponents. He had trained for countless hours in the arena against Broll's bear form, and he knew exactly where to strike a large animal to inflict maximum damage. He breathed in, and shifted his weight to the side at the last second as the tiger barrelled past, his long knives flicking out to slash the animal across the flank.

The movement was minimal, effortless, and yet blood spurted wildly into the air as the knives bit deep into the tiger's heavy hide. Varian did not especially wish to kill the creature; after all, it was only acting according to instincts. His intent was merely to discourage it from its attack, but the tiger was both stubborn and hungry. It shook off his blows with an angry snarl, and once again launched itself into the air on its back legs, batting at him with its enormous paws. Each was the size of a dinner plate, and Varian was forced to dive to the side to avoid having his face torn off.

He rolled across the damp jungle floor and back to his feet in one smooth movement, spinning gracefully to face the oncoming tiger just in time to deal a lightning fast slash across its nose. The beast roared defiantly as it shied away from Varian's stinging blades, but it wisely decided not come around for a third pass. It was smart enough to know that it had met a superior predator, and it relinquished the fight with a reluctant shake of its mighty head. Varian let the beast go, though he tracked its movements carefully as it slunk back into the jungle to lick its wounds.

Only once he was certain that the beast was gone for good did Varian race to Auriana's side. He fell to his knees in the mud, his long knives tumbling carelessly from his hands as he reached out to brush his trembling fingers across her face. She was unnaturally pale, even by her own standards, and her skin felt cold and clammy beneath his urgent touch. Her left wrist was clearly broken, and she was absolutely covered in small scratches and bruises. And yet... after everything, she was still  _here_ , right in front of him, and he could only pray that he was not too late to save her life.

"Auri…" he murmured throatily, brushing back her soaking wet hair from her face with great tenderness. "Please, my stubborn girl, please..."

Varian's hands were trembling badly, but he managed to still them long enough to press his fingers into the hollow of Auriana's throat. His own heart stopped as he stroked her cool skin, only to start thundering wildly a second later as he felt the faintest flicker of a pulse. He gasped with sheer, heartstopping relief, and for a moment he wasn't sure if the dampness of his cheeks was entirely due to the rain.

"Varian? Is she…?"

Varian glanced back over his shoulder, and saw that in the time he had taken to fight off the tiger, Jaina had made her way down the side of the ridge to join him. Her beautiful face was creased with worry, and she seemed almost hesitant to approach, as if afraid of what she might find.

"Alive," Varian confirmed, his voice raw and husky, "But in a bad way. Her wrist is broken, and… oh, Light… Auri… what have you done to yourself?"

He could see a series of strange black lines stretching from up from her back and along her collarbone, and he gently pushed her oversized coat off her shoulder so he could inspect the damage more closely. He then immediately wished he hadn't, and he hissed between his teeth as he beheld a sprawling pattern of inky fractals that covered Auriana's entire back.

"Magebane," Jaina gasped. "It's spread further than I would have thought…"

"I need that antidote, Jaina," Varian said urgently.

"Of course," she said quickly, and she immediately reached into the depths of her robe for the vial she had bought from Dalaran.

Unfortunately, it was going to be nearly impossible to get Auriana to swallow the antidote properly while she was still unconscious, though Varian had no idea how he was going to wake her up.

"Come on, Auri," he implored her quietly. "I need you to help me…"

He took her very carefully by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake, but she remained stubbornly unconscious. Her breath was short and shallow, and while she was most definitely still alive, Varian wasn't sure how long she could last without the antidote. He shook her again, desperate, but try as he might, she would not wake.

"Let me try," Jaina offered.

She knelt down beside Varian, heedless of the mud that stained the bottom of her robes, and she reached out a soft hand to touch Auriana's cheek.

"What are you doing?" Varian asked.

"Trust me," Jaina murmured, and he felt the air prickle with electricity as she called on her power.

Varian frowned, uncertain, though Jaina looked perfectly calm as she channeled the briefest burst of magic at Auriana. Frost crystalised briefly along the line of Auriana's cheekbone, and the unexpected chill did what Varian's gentle shakes could not. Auriana gasped, and her eyes abruptly flicked open. She was understandably dazed, however, and it took her several moments to properly focus in on Varian's face.

"V-Varian…?" she gasped softly, her voice so hoarse as to be almost unrecognisable.

"Yes," he said quickly, inadvertently shoving Jaina out of the way in his haste to get closer to the woman he loved. "Its me, Auri, I'm here. I'm  _here_."

"Y-you… you found me," she choked.

Her dark blue gaze steadied as it met his, and tears slowly and silently began to track down her face. Varian leaned forward, and cradled her cheeks reverently between his palms as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Always," he whispered brokenly. "I will always find you, Auri. Light or dark, life or death... wherever you are, whatever happens… I will  _find_ you..."

Time stopped as Varian stared deep into Auriana's beautiful eyes; eyes he had never expected to see open ever again. Sheer, unadulterated relief crashed over him in waves, and he savoured the feel of her each and every breath against his cheek. There was no rain, no jungle, no assassins... just  _her_ , and the deep, steadfast love between them. He pressed a desperate, shaking kiss against her forehead, and it wasn't until Jaina coughed surreptitiously behind him that he remembered that he was not alone.

Varian coughed, embarrassed that Jaina had witnessed him in such a raw display of emotion, and he reluctantly pulled away. There would be time for relief later, but right now he needed Auriana to drink.

"Auri?" he asked quietly. "Jaina is here. She has the antidote to the magebane, but we will need your help."

"Jaina?" Auriana repeated vaguely, her eyes rapidly becoming unfocused once more. "S'got pretty hair…"

Varian and Jaina exchanged a mildly bemused look, and Jaina shrugged.

"Yes, she's very lovely," he agreed hurriedly, "But that's not the point. I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me?"

"Anything…" Auriana mumbled.

Varian tilted her head back gently, carefully supporting the back of her neck in one large hand, and beckoned towards Jaina.

"You're sure this is safe?" he asked skeptically, as she placed a small vial of bright viridian liquid in his hand.

"I promise," Jaina assured him. "Though do make sure she takes the whole dose. I've never seen someone go so long without treatment."

Varian nodded grimly, and quickly pressed the vial against Auriana's lips.

"Drink," he ordered softly.

Auriana spluttered slightly as the liquid hit her throat, but she nevertheless managed to take the full dose. Varian held her gently the entire time, making sure that she didn't miss a drop, and it wasn't until she sighed and closed her eyes that he allowed her head to relax forward into a normal position.

"How long will it take to work?" he asked Jaina anxiously.

"Honestly… I'm not sure," she replied quietly. "It's normally reasonably fast acting, but… Auriana has been affected for a long time, and she also drank whatever it was Broll gave her when they were in Elwynn Forest. We need to get her back to Stormwind."

Varian grunted in acknowledgement, and he immediately slipped one hand beneath Auriana's shoulders, and the other behind her knees. She was soaking wet and slippery, and Varian was very careful to hold her close as he rose to his feet. She was light as a feather, of course, but she had slipped back into unconsciousness once more, and he did not want to risk dropping her.

As Varian adjusted his grip beneath Auriana's shoulders, Jaina retrieved Shalamayne from where it sat point first in the soft soil of the jungle floor. She carried the blade delicately between two hands, and sheathed it very carefully against Varian's back before turning to open a portal back to Stormwind. She then used her magic to send up a shower of green sparks flaring high into the air; a signal that would let Shaw and the other searchers know that Auriana had been found. Unfortunately, they would have to make their way back to Stormwind on their own, as Varian was not willing to wait another second to take Auriana home.

He did, however, pause on the threshold of the portal as he was struck by a sudden thought, and he glanced briefly across at Jaina.

"Jaina... whatever happens… thank you," Varian muttered gruffly. "I know I've been… well, I've been a bit of an ass… but she's…"

"I know. And there's no need to thank me. That's one of my best archmages you have there," Jaina pointed out, her eyes sparkling kindly. "I can't afford to lose her any more than you can."

It was a perfectly valid reason, of course, but Varian knew that Jaina hadn't traipsed across half the Eastern Kingdoms just for the sake of the Kirin Tor. She had come for  _him_ , for the sake of both their friendship and his sanity, and he was immensely grateful. Having Auriana back in his arms had lifted a great weight from his shoulders, even if she were unconscious, and while he did not yet have it in him to smile, he at least managed to give Jaina a short but sincere nod of thanks.

"We found her, Varian. That's what matters," she said reassuringly. "Now let's get her home."

* * *

 

Unlike Auriana, Jaina could not open a portal directly to Varian's rooms, but she managed to get them close. A number of very surprised guards scattered out of the way as they reappeared, but Varian paid them no mind. He cared for nothing save for reaching his bedchambers and getting Auriana treated, and woe betide anyone who got in his way.

Somewhat to Varian's surprise, however, his quarters were not empty. Anduin, Broll, and Genn Greymane were all waiting in Varian's study, each arrayed around the room in various states of tension. Genn looked the most composed, though he did a poor job of disguising the concern in his eyes as Varian carried Auriana over to the chaise and gently laid her down. Broll looked unusually upset, and he let out an enormous sigh of relief to see that Varian had not returned from his mission empty handed. Of them all, however, Anduin looked the most undone, and he all but pushed Varian out of the way in his haste to reach Auriana's side.

Anduin had bathed and dressed, and while he no longer looked quite as bedraggled as he had the night before, it was clear that he was still very distressed. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he let out a quiet, shaky sob as he fell to his knees beside the chaise. He touched a hand to Auriana's neck in much the same way Varian had done only minutes earlier, and took several deep breaths in an effort to compose himself before he spoke.

"D-did you give her the antidote?"

"Yes, of course," Varian said quickly. "She was briefly conscious, but…"

He trailed off with a helpless shrug, and forced himself to stay out of the way as Anduin began to work his healing magics. It was killing him to be so close to Auriana and not touch her - but right now she needed Anduin, not him.

"How long ago did she take it?" Anduin asked thoughtfully, his voice steadying.

"Perhaps five minutes ago? Ten?" Jaina supplied.

She glanced at Varian for confirmation, and he nodded.

"Though it doesn't seem to have helped…" he added worriedly.

"She's very weak," Anduin murmured. "And she's filthy, I can't tell what's blood or dirt or infection. We should get her cleaned up..."

"I can assist," Broll offered, eager to do anything he could to help. "Varian - I will use your chambers, if you don't mind?"

The archdruid rose to his feet and quickly disappeared into Varian's inner chambers to prepare a bath. In the meantime, Anduin began to tend diligently to Auriana's broken wrist, his earlier agitation fading as he focused his full attention on his work. It was remarkable, Varian thought, how much older and more mature his son appeared when he was healing. The longer Anduin channelled the Light, the calmer and more confident he grew, and Varian's chest swelled with pride to watch. Priesthood was not the calling he would have chosen for his only son, admittedly, but Anduin was wiser and stronger than Varian often gave him credit for. There was a different kind of strength in healing, and he knew that it took great courage to face the pain and torment of others so directly, as Anduin now did. It was clear that he was still shaken, and terribly afraid for Auriana's life, but his magic never once faltered as he slowly and surely knit her bones and closed her wounds.

Genn and Jaina conversed quietly as Anduin worked, though Varian was not remotely interested in what they had to say. Every so often, one of them would glance worriedly in his direction, but he looked away from Anduin and Auriana only so long as it took to rid himself of the more cumbersome pieces of his armour. He placed Shalamayne carefully on his desk, making a mental note to clean the great blade later, before carefully stripping away his gloves, pauldrons, and chestguard. He was still soaked and muddy, of course, but there would be time enough for bathing once Auriana was well.

Anduin had just finished bandaging Auriana's wrist as Varian turned back around. His expression was still grave, but he looked significantly less anxious than he had when Varian, Jaina, and Auriana had first arrived. He clambered awkwardly back to his feet with a long sigh, and he gave Varian a short, reassuring nod.

"Well, that's about as well as I can do for now," he said quietly, "But she's stable."

Jaina's face immediately broke into a wide, relieved smile at his words, while Genn let out a short, satisfied bark of approval. Varian, however, simply closed his eyes in silent gratitude, and it wasn't until he heard Broll's voice that he opened them once more.

"Anduin?"

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes. I could carry her, if you liked. Assist you?" Broll suggested.

It was clear that he wanted to make up for having lost Auriana earlier, in anyway that he could, but Varian knew that she would have rather died than have Broll and Anduin see her naked.

"Ah… perhaps a... woman's touch... would be best?" Anduin suggested, his ears reddening as he glanced briefly over at Varian. "We could have her lady's maids sent up, or perhaps you could help, Aunt Jaina? You needn't have her fit for a ball, but I don't want dirt getting in her wounds..."

Jaina nodded her assent and opened her mouth to speak, but Varian cut her off with a swift, penetrating look.

"I'll do it," he said gruffly.

"Er… are you certain, Father?" Anduin asked hesitantly. "She's in rough shape, you might…"

"I'm sure," Varian growled. "She's mine. I'll do it."

He had held himself back while Anduin had worked his healing spells, but he could do so no longer. He needed to be alone with Auriana, to reassure himself that she was really alive and safely returned to him, and he did not want witnesses to such a private and intimate moment.

"You'll probably have to cut her out of the coat, if you twist her arm the wrong way you'll likely make things worse," Anduin fussed, with a worried frown. "Her ribs are injured, too, and her shoulder. You can't just heave her over  _your_  shoulder and throw her in a tub!"

He did not seem to trust Varian to be suitably delicate; which was, admittedly, not an unreasonable fear. Varian knew he was not especially gentle or sensitive, even at the best of times, but when it came to Auriana, he would be anything he needed to be. Fortunately, Jaina seemed to understand exactly why Varian needed to be the one to care for Auriana, and she tactfully pulled Anduin out of the way with a light hand upon his shoulder.

"Anduin. Let him be," she said soothingly, with a slight nod at Varian. "He knows what to do."

Anduin still looked concerned, but he nevertheless remained silent as Varian once again lifted Auriana with ease, and carried her off into the bathchamber alone. She had remained unconscious, even throughout her healing, and she felt as light and limp as a ragdoll in Varian's arms. He kicked the door roughly closed behind him, then hooked his left foot through a small bath stool and dragged it with him across to the tub.

As Broll had promised, the bath was full and hot, but the real challenge would be getting Auriana undressed. Anduin had pulled off her boots during the course of his initial examination, but she was still clad in her tight breeches and her filthy, oversized coat. Varian sat down with some difficulty, keeping her carefully balanced across his lap as he did so, and he slipped his long fingers beneath the line of buttons that ran down the centre of her chest.

"What am I going to do with you, Auri?" he murmured roughly. "You seem to delight in giving me heart attacks..."

Varian hissed between his teeth as he revealed the line of black bruising along her ribs, and he realised that Anduin was right. Extricating Auriana from her clothes in the traditional manner would likely only cause further damage, and his only option was to cut them off. Fortunately, Varian kept a small knife in his own boots, much as Auriana had, and he quickly set about working her free from her heavy woollen coat.

Auriana's head flopped back against his shoulder as he awkwardly sliced at the seams, trying very hard not to accidentally cut  _her_  instead. It was difficult to work with her perched so precariously upon his lap, but Varian would not have put her down under any circumstances. He was reluctant to let her go for even a  _second_ , as he felt like she might disappear if he were not expressly touching her.

It took a long time, but Auriana was eventually laid bare, the remains of her clothes lying in tatters all around, and Varian lowered her into the waiting tub with great care. She gasped as the warm water touched her freezing cold skin, the abrupt change in temperature enough to shock her back to consciousness once more. She reached weakly for the side of the tub as her eyes fluttered open, and she began to thrash in panic as her eyes slowly adjusted to her unexpected surroundings. Varian ducked instinctively as a spray of bathwater soaked his shirt, but he was not remotely concerned by a little dampness.

"Easy!" he exclaimed. "Auri - focus. Listen to the sound of my voice. You are safe."

Varian placed a firm hand on Auriana's stomach to keep her from injuring herself further, though he was very careful not to put pressure on her ribs. She was clearly disoriented and upset, though she gradually stilled under his calm, persistent touch.

"Varian…?" she whispered hoarsely. "W-what happened… where…"

"I'm here," he assured her, "And you're in Stormwind."

He waited until she was settled before he withdrew his hand from her belly, and pulled her gently into a sitting position. She groaned as she sat upright, but she grabbed for Varian's wrist with a sudden strength and desperation that belied her wounded state.

"Anduin… is he…" she gasped urgently.

"He's here; he's perfectly well," Varian said soothingly.

He gently extricated his wrist from her hand, and pulled up a stool so that he could tend to her properly.

"I need to get you cleaned up," he explained. "Let me know if I'm hurting you…"

Auri nodded vaguely, her head drooping tiredly against her shoulder as Varian began to slowly and painstakingly wash the grime from her body. She looked so tiny and fragile that he was afraid that he might shatter her with a single touch, but she uttered not a word of complaint as he worked. Her only concessions to her pain was a slight quickening of breath or a crease in her forehead as Varian ran the washcloth over her more sensitive areas, though she slipped briefly back into unconsciousness more than once.

Still, she was  _here_ , at least, soft and real beneath his fingers. Varian's efforts to rid Auriana of blood and grime less practical by the minute, and he soon abandoned the washcloth in favour of caressing her with his bare hands. The enormity of the past few days crashed down upon him the moment his weathered touch met her pale skin, and he found himself suddenly fighting back a large lump that rose unbidden in his throat.

"Dammit," he growled.

Feelings did not come either easily or comfortably to him, but here, alone with Auriana, he finally let down his guard.

"Auri… you need to know... whether you are my wife, my queen, or my consort, or anything else you want to be… I don't care," he murmured, his palms lingering against the slender curve of her shoulders. "So long as I still have you."

He reached for her hands, and pressed a tender kiss against her battered knuckles.

"Any way you'll have me," he added.

A very faint smile flickered across Auriana's face at his words, but a soft knock interrupted their quiet moment before she could say anything in reply.

"Varian?" Jaina enquired, her voice muffled by the heavy door. "Is everything alright? You've been in here quite a while. Anduin is starting to fret."

Varian sighed in disappointment, though he knew he was being rather selfish. He would have time enough to be alone with Auriana while she healed, and he certainly couldn't leave her in the bath forever.

"Ah - I could use your help, actually," he replied, trying not to let his frustration enter his voice. "Just... give me a minute."

He stood up, and carefully reached down to lift Auriana out of the tub. Water splashed across his chest and onto the floor as he pulled her tight against his chest, but once again, he was not concerned. He wrapped her gently in a large white towel, and settled back onto his stool before he called for Jaina to enter.

A small smile graced the Archmage's features as she slipped into the bathchamber and beheld Auriana curled up in Varian's arms, but she made no comment.

"She's clean, but I don't think she will be conscious for much longer. She keeps slipping in and out," Varian explained, "And I don't want to put her down. Could you retrieve one of her nightgowns from my wardrobe?"

"Of course," Jaina said smoothly.

She disappeared in a swirl of skirts, and returned a few minutes later holding a plain white cotton nightgown.

"Will this do?"

"Yes, thank you," Varian said sincerely. "If I hold her up, do you think you could get the gown over her head?"

He shifted Auriana's weight so that she was more or less sitting upright, and very gently raised one of her arms. Jaina moved in close and lifted the other, and together they carefully slid the Auriana's hands through the holes in the sleeves. As they worked, however, the towel slipped, and Jaina gasped as she caught sight of the jagged scar that bisected the entire length of Auriana's bare back.

"I take it you've never seen it before," Varian observed quietly.

"No," Jaina whispered, wincing in sympathy. "I knew she had been injured in the fight against Deathwing, of course, but… I had no idea..."

"Well, she's very private person, and she's somewhat ashamed of her scars," Varian explained. "She'd be mortified if she knew you were seeing her half naked like this."

"Given the circumstances, I'm sure she would understand," Jaina reasoned. "Besides… better me than Anduin, hmm?"

She chuckled, and even Varian had to snort in mild amusement at the thought. Together, they finished pulling the nightgown over Auriana's neck and down across her shoulders, before Varian carried Auriana out to his bed and laid her solemnly down against the pillows. Jaina followed close behind, and diligently helped him to tuck Auriana in beneath the heavy blankets and furs. As Varian had anticipated, she had fallen back into unconsciousness, but her bath had at least returned some of the colour to her cheeks, and she no longer felt icy cold to the touch. He sighed, tenderly stroking the line of Auriana's bare arm; only to pull his hand away a second later as he caught Jaina watching with a faint smile.

"What?" he grunted.

"I've never really seen you like this," she remarked, as she leaned over to plump the pillows beneath Auriana's head.

"Like 'this'?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"You're softer with her," Jaina observed, her head tilting slightly to one side as she watched him. "That's not a bad thing, you know."

Varian snorted dismissively, but he supposed Jaina had a point. He  _was_ uncharacteristically gentle when it came to Auriana, though he wasn't sure he wanted to show that side of himself to someone else - even if that someone else were Jaina. Fortunately, she seemed to have noticed his discomfort, and she respectfully stepped away.

"Broll and Genn are still waiting outside with Anduin," she said kindly. "Do you wish to speak to them, or shall I ask them to leave?"

Varian considered the question thoughtfully.

"Broll should rest. He's in nearly as bad a shape as Auriana," he ordered. "Have Genn keep an eye out for Shaw's return, and inform the guards that I am not to be disturbed for anything less than a second Cataclysm."

"As you wish," Jaina agreed.

"Oh, and send Anduin in," Varian added, as he pulled up a seat near the bed at Auriana's side. "He won't be satisfied until he sees her for himself."

"Much like his father," Jaina mused slyly, as she made her way to the door. "I'll let him know."

Varian briefly heard the hum of quiet voices outside as Jaina relayed his orders to the others, but he had ceased to pay full attention the moment she had slipped out of the room. His focus was entirely on Auriana; so much so that he almost didn't notice when Anduin entered his chambers and came to stand by his side. Of course, it was hard to ignore the fact that the boy was practically vibrating with nervous energy, and Varian reluctantly moved aside so that Anduin could inspect Auriana for himself.

Anduin said not a word as he laid a gentle hand against her cheek, and the entire room took on a soft golden glow as he called on the Light. His power made everything feel warm, so much so that even Varian was heartened simply by virtue of being nearby.

"She already looks better," he remarked quietly. "Thanks to you."

"It was the least I could do," Anduin murmured. "She saved my life."

He was still restless, edgy, even more so than Varian himself, and he seemed unwilling to so much as glance in Varian's direction. He did not look up, even after he allowed the Light to fade from his hands, and the silence between father and son slowly grew until it was all but deafening.

"Anduin?"

Varian reached for his son's arm, only for Anduin to pull away as swiftly as if he had been stung.

"What's bothering you?" Varian pressed. "Is something wrong with Auriana? Is the antidote not working?"

"No," Anduin assured him quickly, his light blue gaze flicking to Varian's face for the first time. "It isn't that. Auri… well, I won't lie, she's in bad shape, but nothing rest and healing cannot fix. The magebane is also receding, though I think it will take some time for her to recover her full magical strength."

"Then what?"

Anduin visibly struggled to find the right words, and it was some time before he finally gained the courage to speak.

"Father… I didn't… I didn't leave her in the Duskwood because I don't care about her," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I p-promise you, I didn't…"

Of all the things Varian had thought Anduin might say, he had not expected  _that_. The thought had never even crossed his mind that Anduin would have left Auriana out of spite or maliciousness, and he was genuinely surprised that Anduin believed it might have.

"I don't understand..."

"I know you worry about us, about whether we get along," Anduin explained wretchedly. "I don't want you to think I abandoned her in the forest because I don't like her, or because I resent her in some way. Or worse, because I don't want you to be together..."

"Anduin… you didn't abandon her. You made a tactical decision," Varian sighed. "Light, I know you wouldn't even abandon your worst enemy, let alone someone I cared about..."

Anduin let out a quiet, non-committal sigh, but the deep worry lines that creased his forehead relaxed ever so slightly as Varian continued to speak.

"In life or death situations... sometimes you have to make a choice when there are no good choices. You did the best that you could… and I'm sure she agrees."

Varian nodded towards Auriana, now sleeping quietly between them, and gestured for Anduin to pull up a chair. He did so somewhat reluctantly, but he seemed willing, at least, to listen to what Varian had to say.

"She asked after you," Varian added bracingly. "She was conscious for some time as I was bathing her. All she cared about was you, and whether you were safe. Does that sound like someone who blames you for your actions, or who bares you any ill will?"

Anduin's expression brightened slightly, but he still looked troubled. He twisted his hands anxiously in his lap, and pointedly avoided answering the question.

"Anduin?"

"There's… there's more," he mumbled.

"Oh?"

"I… I killed a man," Anduin confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

"You?  _Really_?"

Varian spoke without thinking, and he swore inwardly as Anduin's face fell and his cheeks flushed red.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to sound… well, the way it sounded..." Varian coughed hurriedly. "I was simply… surprised."

Anduin nodded pensively, and waved a hand in Auriana's direction.

"You see the bruises on her neck?" he asked. "One of the assassins… he tried to strangle her to death. I had no choice. I didn't want to kill him, but I was suddenly so angry, and so afraid. I thought about what it would mean to you if she died… what it would mean to  _me_ , and I couldn't let him hurt her, I just couldn't…"

He spoke in rapid, hushed tones, as if he stopped speaking for a second he might never be able to start again. His expression was unreadable, torn somewhere between guilt and shame and something else indescribable. Varian frowned, wanting to say anything that might give Anduin comfort, but he knew he had a poor history of saying the right thing in these sorts of situations. He struggled with himself for a minute, only to awkwardly blurt out the only thing he could think of instead.

"I'm proud of you."

"For… for killing a man?" Anduin asked.

His pale eyebrows flew upwards in surprise, and he looked thoroughly bewildered by Varian's response.

"No. It's never a proud moment, to take a life - although it is sometimes necessary," Varian clarified. "No, I'm proud of you because… you protected Auriana, even when you were afraid. You had the courage to make a difficult decision, even when it hurt you personally. The ability to protect those weaker than yourself, to put yourself on the line to do what is right -  _that_ is the hallmark of a great king."

"If I hadn't acted, she would have died," Anduin agreed slowly, "But what if there was another way? I reacted on instinct, out of fear, and anger. Perhaps I should have tried to negotiate, or talked to him somehow. I don't know… I feel so… conflicted…"

"You're not… well, someone like me," Varian grunted. "Violence doesn't come easily to you. But… it was worth it, don't you think?"

As he spoke, Auriana stirred slightly in her sleep, caught in the throes of some dream. Her nose crinkled as she muttered something incomprehensible beneath her breath, and she curled up into a little ball beneath the blankets. She looked pale and beautiful, even despite her injuries, and Varian's chest swelled with a fierce urge to watch over her and keep her safe. He glanced across at Anduin, and it was clear that his son was similarly affected. Anduin's jaw tightened determinedly, and the lingering doubt that had plagued his expression ever since Varian had returned slowly began to fade away.

"Absolutely worth it," he whispered.

He finally turned to look Varian in the eye, and he smiled tiredly. For once, it seemed, they were in perfect agreement.

"Anduin…" Varian added stiffly, "I don't know if you could have made another choice. I was not there. But I will  _never_ forget that you chose to save her life. Thank you."

He opened his left arm and beckoned, and for once it seemed that he had done the right thing. Anduin came to him without hesitation, and shuffled his chair closer so that Varian could loop an arm around his shoulders. Varian did not often show physical affection to his son, and he felt decidedly awkward doing so, but Anduin didn't seem to care. He happily rested his head against the heavy muscle of Varian's chest, and he let out a deep, shuddering sigh as the tension in his body slowly faded away.

"Father… you're soaked through," he mumbled. "You smell like a wet dog."

"That's a wet  _wolf_ , to you… though I could let go, if you would prefer," Varian offered, and he shifted his weight slightly so that Anduin could move away if he so chose.

To his surprise, however, Anduin laughed instead; a bright, clear sound of pure relief, and he pulled Varian's arm firmly back down across his shoulders.

"No. I'm right where I want to be," he murmured softly, and together father and son sat in solemn, peaceful silence as they watched Auriana sleep.


	25. Auriana

Auriana dreamed. She was somewhere cold, and wet, and her heart thundered in her chest with fear. She was running, sprinting as fast as her legs could carry her, though she had no idea what it was that chased her. All she knew was that it was terrifying, and monstrous, and that it pursued her through the darkness with a single minded determination.

Strangely, Auriana could not have described what the thing looked like, knowing only that she had to run and never stop less the creature catch her. She saw teeth, and blades, and stripes; and all other manner of things that she couldn't have even hoped to describe. Sometimes, she thought she caught glimpses of something - or  _someone -_  familiar, but they never came close enough for her to get a good look, and so on and on she ran.

A wolf howled. The darkness swelled, and Auriana found herself falling. She gasped, and her eyes flew open.

The morning light streaming in through the windows was exceedingly bright, and it took some time for Auriana's senses to adjust to the abrupt change. She blinked, breathing heavily from her dream, and was somewhat surprised to find that she was lying in Varian's enormous bed. Whoever had found her had gone to great pains to see that she was comfortable, and she was all but buried in an enormous pile of blankets and furs. Someone, presumably the king himself, had slept beside her recently, and judging from the two chairs pulled up beside the bed, someone else had been keeping a vigil.

Auriana pushed herself painfully upright, trying to remember how she had returned to Stormwind Keep. She could recall some of what had happened over the last few days, though some events were hazier than others. Her body ached, though it was less sore than she thought it might have been, given the circumstances. Her wrist was rigidly bandaged, and she felt a slight pull in her chest every time she took a breath, but other than that she felt surprisingly well. She was clean, too, and dressed in a simple white nightgown; and if not for the assortment of bruises and cuts that marked her body, she felt as if she might have simply woken up from a long night's sleep.

_My magic_ , she recalled suddenly.

Auriana's heart leapt into her throat, and she lunged gracelessly out of the bed. She stumbled slightly with pain and fatigue as her feet hit the cool stone floor, but she steadied herself well enough to limp over to the mirror and inspect her back. Being cut off from her powers by the magebane had reminded Auriana uncomfortably of her time in the torture chambers of Blackrock Foundry, and she prayed that whoever had rescued her had thought to give her the antidote to the insidious poison. Losing her magic always felt as if she were missing some crucial part of herself, almost like missing a limb, and she was desperate to see her powers restored.

Auriana slid to an awkward halt in front of the mirror, trying to ignore the nervous tremble in her legs. She slipped the loose gown off her left shoulder, and twisted slightly so that she might inspect her reflection in the mirror. There was a line of freshly healed skin, perhaps two inches long, that ran vertically down her shoulder blade from where the assassin's arrow had pierced her. The wound was surprisingly clean and pink, and Auriana realised that it would barely even scar. Best of all, the spreading darkness of the magebane was gone, and her skin had returned to its normal alabaster hue.

Her excitement rapidly mounting, Auriana reached tentatively for her magic, and she gasped as she felt the deep wellspring of her power rise willing to meet her call. There were no barriers, no insidious poisons leeching away at her strength, and she was so overwhelmed to realise that she  _could_  touch her magic that she didn't pause for a second to wonder whether she  _should_.

Auriana reached greedily for her powers, only to regret her decision to do so almost immediately. Her magic flowed true for a brief moment, before her battered body simply collapsed under the strain. She tumbled forward, and would have hit the ground if not for a set of warm, strong arms that caught her at the last second.

"Varian…?" she whispered hopefully, only to immediately realise that the man that now held her was not her king.

"Regrettably not," Broll apologised. "You'll have to make to do with me, I'm afraid."

He smiled down at her as he gently set her back upon her feet, though he kept one arm wrapped firmly around her waist for support. The last time she remembered seeing Broll he had been in his bear form, fighting off dozens of assassins so that she and Anduin could escape. He had evidently been injured in the attempt, judging from the bandages that peeked out from beneath his loose tunic, and Auriana felt her stomach twist with guilt.

"You're alive…" she breathed gratefully.

"So are you," Broll observed drily, "Though I am not sure you should be out of bed. Anduin will be most displeased. What are you doing?"

"Inspecting the damage," Auriana explained, pulling her nightgown back up over her bare shoulder. "A bit of a habit of mine, unfortunately. I can stand, I promise, I just… I was so excited to have been cured of the magebane that I didn't really think about my other injuries."

"Your magic has been returned to you, then?"

"Yes. It's back to full strength, I think, although my body has some catching up to do," she winced. "Hence my collapse."

"You took quite a beating," Broll observed grimly.

He seemed rather reluctant to release her, and Auriana had to physically peel the archdruid's fingers away from her waist before he would let go.

"It's not as bad as I thought it might be," she admitted. "I mean, I'm a little dizzy. My wrist hurts, and I'm  _exhausted_ , but… I expected to feel worse."

"I am glad to hear it," Broll said warmly, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. "You had us all very worried."

Auriana smiled, but inside, her heart fell. Her memory of the last few days was mostly hazy, but she distinctly remembered that Varian had been the one to find her and bring her home, and she rather thought he might have been watching over her as she slept. Deep down, however, she feared that he held  _her_ responsible for what had happened in the Duskwood. She had hurt him, she knew, when she had hesitated to accept his proposal, and then she had gone and made it all the worse by exposing his only son to a hunting party of deadly assassins. Privately, Auriana would not have blamed him if he had been angry with her, though she had hoped he would be here for her when she woke.

"W-where is Varian?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light and nonchalant.

"He has hardly left your side," Broll explained. "He was even taking meals here. The maidservants were quite vexed with him leaving so many crumbs in the bed."

_Then where_ is  _he?_  Auriana wondered, though she didn't voice the thought out loud for fear of sounding petulant.

It appeared that she could not hide her emotions as well as she thought, however, for Broll's eyes narrowed knowingly, and he placed a bracing hand on her uninjured shoulder.

"He was loathe to leave you," he assured her, "But Shaw came with news. He has been interrogating a captured assassin, and Varian was most interested in what he might have found. He would not have left you otherwise."

"You managed to  _capture_ one?" Auriana asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"I was not there, but one of the search parties caught a man trying to flee," Broll elaborated. "This man has been held in SI:7 for the last three days."

Auriana winced. She had no sympathy for  _any_  of the assassins who had had try to kill her and Anduin, but she also did not envy the man in the slightest. The dungeons of SI:7 had a certain reputation, and she very much doubted that the assassin's stay had been a  _comfortable_  one. In a way, though, the assassin was probably fortunate that he had been left to the tender mercies of Mathias Shaw, rather than Varian himself. Auriana loved Varian fiercely, but she was not blind to the reality of who and what he was. He could be an incredibly violent, dangerous man, and she pitied whoever was so bold and so stupid as to bring harm to his son.

"I wonder if Shaw has discovered any useful information," Auriana mused idly, when she was suddenly struck by another thought. "Wait - I've really been asleep for three days?"

While she felt much better, her head was still somewhat fuzzy from the combined effects of her injuries, the poison, and whatever it was that Broll had given her in the first place, and it made it somewhat difficult to organise her thoughts.

"It was Anduin's idea," he explained. "He used his powers to keep you sleeping. As I understand it, he was concerned by the damage to your ribs. He was worried that you might be bleeding internally."

"Oh," she said. "Ah - I'm not, am I?"

"No, thankfully," Broll said, smiling.

"What about you?" Auriana asked, nodding towards the bandages that crisscrossed his broad chest.

"Shot several times, unfortunately," Broll growled, stretching his shoulder muscles slightly. "The magebane did not affect me as it affected you, however."

He did not seem overly concerned by his injuries, but Auriana felt awful nonetheless.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It wasn't your fault, Auriana," Broll said firmly, shaking his massive antlers. "If anything, it's mine. I took you outside the bounds of the city."

He frowned, his brow creasing heavily, and Auriana abruptly realised that he felt as guilty as she. Broll cared for Varian a great deal, and he would have been as upset as Auriana herself to have let his friend down.

"In any case," Broll added quickly, "Anduin should be back shortly. He only stepped out to acquire some fresh bandages, and I know he is most anxious to see you awake. Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?"

"No, I'm quite alr…" Auriana started, only to cut herself off as she realised there was a question that Broll was uniquely qualified to answer. "Actually… I  _did_ have something to ask you."

"Yes?"

"When I was in the Duskwood…" she said slowly, "I was cornered by three assassins. I was dead to rights, actually… until, out of nowhere, a pack of wolves attacked."

"So it  _was_ wolves," Broll murmured, nodding thoughtfully to himself. "We saw the bodies."

"That's not the strange part, though. I was… completely vulnerable," Auriana said darkly. "I had no weapons, no magic, and no chance of escape. One of the wolves came up to me after the pack had finished slaughtering the assassins… and he did nothing. He just sort of… sniffed at me, and left."

"Really?" Broll asked, his eyes lighting up with sudden interest.

"Yes," Auriana said. "I know I was more or less out of my mind at the time, but... it certainly didn't seem like usual behaviour for a wild animal, much less a predator. Have you ever heard of wolves doing something like that?"

Broll leaned forward, staring at Auriana as if seeing her for the first time. His golden eyes blazed with curiosity, and he somehow seemed to be now looking  _past_ her, to something invisible and intangible beyond.

"They are curious creatures, wolves," he mused quietly. "Incredibly powerful, and violent when necessary, but also very much  _loyal_. They mate for life, you know."

"That's… interesting," Auriana said nervously, "But I don't see how it relates to my question…"

"They are also are notorious for protecting their own," he said seriously, as if that explained everything.

Auriana, however, was nonplussed; though she also suspected that even if she hadn't already been drowsy, she  _still_ wouldn't have been able to follow Broll's train of thought.

"You've lost me."

"Perhaps I should put it this way - there is a reason that Varian is called Lo'Gosh," Broll said slowly.

He gave her a significant look, and Auriana scowled as a suspicion formed in her mind.

"Hold on... " she murmured, "You're suggesting that  _Goldrinn_  protected me… because I'm Varian's...  _mate_?"

She scoffed incredulously, but Broll did not share her mirthful disbelief. He was staring at her with the utmost seriousness, and Auriana's smile slowly faded from her face.

"Broll… come on," she argued. "That's  _impossible_."

"Stranger things have happened," Broll countered, shrugging. "Varian could not watch over you in person, but... perhaps in spirit."

"That's a nice thought, but…"

"Do you have a better explanation?" he asked swiftly, his long green eyebrows quirking upwards.

"I… well…  _no_ ," Auriana admitted, "But.. surely a wolf ancient has better things to do than watch over my sorry self."

"Ah, because there could be no  _possible_ benefit to saving the life of one of Azeroth's most powerful sorceresses," Broll said archly. "Besides… I am certain none of us want to contemplate the man Varian would become were he to lose you. Goldrinn included."

Auriana shook her head, still skeptical, though she supposed it wasn't the  _strangest_ thing she had ever heard.

"Still, you  _were_  hallucinating, it's possible that none of this ever even happened," Broll conceded. "Perhaps you stumbled on the bodies, already dead, and your mind conjured its own explanation. Something to consider, however…"

It was a fair point, and it was certainly a more reasonable suggestion than the idea that  _Goldrinn_  had seen fit to intervene, though Auriana could not deny that the wolf had  _felt_  undeniably real. She frowned, and was just about to argue the point further, when the door to Varian's chambers opened, and Anduin stepped inside.

"Auri!"

Anduin's face lit up at the sight of her and he immediately crossed the room to her side, dropping an armful of bandages on the bed as he came. To Auriana's immense surprise, he held out his arms, and pulled her into tight but careful embrace.

"I'm so glad you're awake," he said earnestly, "Though you really shouldn't be on your feet."

Auriana glanced at Broll.

"I told you," the archdruid said, trying not to smile. "He fusses almost as badly as his father."

"I'm a healer!" Anduin protested. "I'm supposed to 'fuss'. Besides, Father is  _far_  worse."

"Well, I appreciate it," Auriana said honestly, smiling up at him. "You did an excellent job with my wrist. And the poison. And... the rest of me."

"It was nothing," Anduin said modestly, though he reddened happily at her praise.

Like Broll, he also seemed reluctant to let her go, and he kept both hands resting firmly on her waist as they talked. Strangely, however, Auriana did not find physical contact between them as uncomfortable as she once had, and she permitted his hands to linger.

"You're unharmed?" she asked nervously.

"A few cuts and bruises, but nothing too serious," Anduin confirmed. "You were the worst hurt out of all of us, save for…"

He expression grew grave, and he was suddenly unable to look her in the eye. Auriana's heart went still, and she began to fear that the real reason Varian had left her side was because he had been gravely injured in his attempt to rescue her, and neither Broll nor Anduin wanted to be the one to tell her.

"Varian…" she whispered.

"He's fine," Anduin said quickly. "Very angry, but… fine."

"Then who?" Auriana asked.

"Your bodyguard, Crowther. She was killed in the initial attack," Broll said sadly. "She took an arrow to the neck. I am sorry."

Auriana's heart constricted in her chest, and her knees suddenly felt weak. She staggered forward, landing gently against Anduin's chest as his hands slid up her back to steady her.

"Auri…?"

"She had a son," she murmured.

While Auriana had initially objected to having her own personal bodyguards, over time she had become friendly with the two women tasked to protect her life. Crowther had been a seasoned warrior, a veteran of several campaigns in Northrend and during the Cataclysm, and had been a particularly deft hand with an axe. She had tolerated Auriana's mild irritation at being guarded with more grace than Auriana felt she probably deserved, and had always been quick with a bawdy joke or a sly quip.

"I… excuse me…" Auriana muttered, surprised and overwhelmed by the strength of her own reaction to Crowther's death.

She pushed away from Anduin, ignoring the look of pleading in his eyes, and stumbled her way to the bath chamber. Her hands were shaking as she closed the door and turned the lock, and she only just managed to make it to the mirrored basin before her stomach heaved, and she was violently sick. Unfortunately, there was nothing  _in_  her stomach, given that she had been unconscious for three days, and she choked on the acrid bile that welled in her throat.

_She's dead because of_ you _._

Auriana glanced up, breathing heavily, and her reflection stared back at her with pitiless blue eyes. She looked awful up close; white as a sheet with big black circles under her eyes, and numerous cuts and abrasions all over her shoulders and arms. Still, she was alive, and Crowther was not, and her eyes welled with tears even as her stomach churned with guilt and shame once more.

"Stop it," she told herself firmly.

Auriana clutched the side of the basin with a white-knuckled grip, biting her lip as she fought back a wave of tears. She absolutely hated to cry, especially knowing that Broll and Anduin were outside listening, and yet she found she couldn't stop. Out in the Duskwood, she had no other choice but to be strong, but in here, her defenses crumbled, and she gasped as the pain of the last few days washed over her.

"Auri?"

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Auriana heard Anduin softly call her name.

"Please come out," he added. "I want to help you."

"I'm not sure I deserve your help," she sniffled.

"Nonsense."

There was a moment of silence, and then another knock at the door.

"It wasn't your fault, Auri," Anduin murmured, as if reading her thoughts. "None of this is your fault, or Broll's, or mine. It's the fault of the people who came after us. Please."

His voice was quiet, but it rang with a firmness and a sincerity that Auriana found hard to ignore. She also supposed that she couldn't hide in Varian's bathchamber forever, and she reluctantly opened the door to see Anduin's worried face staring down at her. There was no judgement or censure in his gaze, however, and he said not a word as he drew her into his arms and held her tightly.

Auriana fought to keep her tears in check, embarrassed by her emotions, but Anduin didn't seem to mind. He stood tall and steadfast, gently stroking Auriana's hair as she struggled the control her breathing. Together, they stood in solemn silence for a long time, before Broll quietly coughed to remind them of his presence.

"I will give you two some privacy," the archdruid offered. "Auriana - shall I tell Varian that you are awake?"

Auriana pulled away from Anduin's kind embrace, and hastily wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. As sweet and comforting as the prince was, it was his father that she truly needed, though she found herself hesitant to call him to her side. She was afraid that he was angry with her for risking Anduin's life, not to mention that she was loathe to appear before him so undone. Varian hated to see her cry, and she had no desire to further add to his stress.

"Ah… no, thank you," she said reluctantly, "He'll just come running up here, and it sounds as if this meeting with Shaw is important. We need answers."

It  _was_ true, though she certainly wasn't going to admit the real reason why she was afraid to speak to Varian.

"Are you certain?" Broll frowned, exchanging a surprised glance with Anduin.

"Yes," Auriana said firmly. "He'll… he'll see me soon enough."

"If you insist," Broll conceded, though he sounded very skeptical. "I will be just outside, should you need me."

He nodded respectfully to Anduin, and quickly made his way from the room. Auriana sighed, and rubbed at her eyes as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. Her legs ached, and while she was certainly no longer at death's door, she wasn't at full strength, either. Anduin, however, remained standing, and he watched her with a keen expression that was uncannily reminiscent of his father.

"It's not your fault," he repeated.

"Are you so sure about that?" Auriana said bitterly. "None of this would have happened if I had only had the courage to say yes when Varian asked…"

"No. None of this would have happened if there weren't assassins trying to use our deaths for their own nefarious ends," Anduin corrected her sharply. "Crowther was a warrior. She knew what she was getting into when she signed on to protect you. That was a choice  _she_  made."

"Her life should not be considered more expendable than mine because she's the guard and I'm the lady!" she snapped. "I hate this. I  _hate_  it."

Auriana hung her head, and her shoulders sagged as the tension of the last few months finally caught up to her. She was used to enemies that struck openly; enemies that she could see and  _fight_ , and she was sick to death of living under a cloud of suspicion and fear. She had tried to be strong for Varian; had tried not to let him see how much it bothered her, but Crowther's death was the last straw.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, to no one in particular.

She heard Anduin sigh, and felt the bed shift under his weight as he took a seat at her side.

"Of course she wasn't expendable. No one is," he said gently.

He reached out to take her good hand, and he gave it an encouraging squeeze.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked. "I… I like being a prince, for the most part. It means I have the power to help people in a way that most can only dream of. Unfortunately, it also means that people place a higher value on my life than the lives of others."

He sighed.

"Sadly, this is not the first time I've been the target of assassins," he said ruefully. "Ever since I was old enough to remember, I've watched brave men and women put their lives on the line to protect mine."

"I'm used to being the other end of that equation," Auriana murmured. "I wouldn't think twice about giving my life to save someone's life, but having someone do the same for me? It feels… wrong, somehow…"

"I once watched my own father sacrifice himself to save me," Anduin whispered, shuddering. "It was just after the Cataclysm. We were attacked by Twilight's Hammer assassins, on Remembrance Day no less. There was no question in his mind then, either, no hesitation. He would have gone to his grave with a smile, knowing I was safe."

"Well, protecting  _you_ is non-negotiable," Auriana said firmly.

"Because I'm the Prince of Stormwind?" Anduin asked wryly.

"No. Because he loves you," she murmured. "A-and… and so do I."

It was not something Auriana had planned to say, but it was the truth. Anduin's face lit up at her words, and while he did not say anything out loud, it was clear that he was deeply moved. He put an arm very gently around her shoulders, and affectionately rested his head against hers.

"You are  _worth_ saving, Auriana," he insisted, his bright blue eyes blazing with fierce passion. "Crowther obviously thought so."

"I…"

"Ah! No!" he exclaimed, raising a finger. "No arguments. Light, you're worse than Father. Stubborn as mules, both of you."

"That's not true," Auriana huffed. "He's  _far_  worse than I am."

Anduin broke into a wide, genuine grin, and Auriana couldn't help but to give him a small smile in return. He was such a bright soul, that it was difficult to remain miserable when he was around. He was also right, as he so often was. Crowther had chosen the path of a soldier, much as Auriana herself had done, and she had done so knowing the risks. Still, Auriana regretted her death immeasurably, and she made a silent promise to ensure that Crowther's son was well looked after.

Auriana let Anduin hold her for a while, and his presence did much to relieve some of the tight pressure in her chest. Eventually, however, she pulled away, and wiped the last tears from her eyes.

"Thank you," she muttered awkwardly.

"Any time," Anduin said, smiling. "After all… you're practically family…"

His brow furrowed in thought, and he looked suddenly nervous.

"Do… ah… do you remember anything what happened before you got shot?" he asked shyly.

"You mean, do I remember that I had decided to accept your father's proposal?"

She arched an eyebrow, and Anduin blushed.

"Ah, yes. That," he mumbled.

"You were worried I had forgotten?"

"Not that you'd forgotten, so much as… reconsidered," Anduin confessed. "My family is not a…  _safe_ … family, as much as I wish it were otherwise. And I can see how much this hurts you."

His face fell ever so slightly, and he suddenly looked very concerned.

"I haven't changed my mind, Anduin. Varian… he's worth anything this world has to throw at me," Auriana assured him quietly, meaning every word. "I'd take an arrow to the back every day if that's what it took to be with him."

"Please don't," Anduin said, blanching. "I mean, I appreciate the healing practice, but…"

"I'll do my best," she promised.

She chuckled ruefully, but soon grew serious once more.

"Assuming he'll still have me, of course…" she sighed.

"What?" Anduin exclaimed, surprised. "Auri… what are you talking about?"

"I… I put you in danger, Anduin. Whether I intended to or not, my actions put your life at risk," she said sadly. "I don't… I have no idea how to face him after that."

She looked away, and fought to control the sudden tremble that rose in her fingers.

"Auri… please don't think like that. He  _wants_ you, I know he does," Anduin said throatily, reaching out to capture her hands with his own. "He's been a wreck, these last few days, and it isn't because he's angry with you. It's because he loves you, and he almost lost you."

"But what if…"

"Ah! What did I tell you?" Anduin tutted. "No arguing."

His expression was light and almost playful, but there was a steely determination hidden deep within his pale blue eyes.  _He_ clearly believed every word he was saying, and despite herself, Auriana began to that he would once again prove to be correct.

"I suppose I ought to stop hiding in here, then," she relented, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. "I should go to him."

"What you  _should_ do is stay here, in bed. You're still injured, and you need your rest," Anduin countered, "Though I doubt you're going to listen to me."

He tried very hard to look disapproving, but it was clear that he was very glad to hear that she intended to speak to his father, and Auriana couldn't help but to smile.

"I have to  _listen_ now, too?" she said slyly. "You're asking too much of me, Anduin. I can listen to you, or I can avoid arguing with you. I can't do both."

It was a weak attempt at humour, perhaps, but it was still something more than tears; and Anduin relaxed considerably to see her fighting against the melancholy that had threatened to overwhelm her.

"So that's a no to the bed rest, then?" he sighed; a small, hopeful grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

He slipped an arm beneath Auriana's shoulders, and gently helped her to stand.

"No bed rest," she agreed, gritting her teeth determinedly against the pain of her weary muscles. "I need my king."


	26. Varian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So - as it turns out, this is the last chapter of Lion's Rise! A huge thank you to everyone who has read, commented, followed, or engaged with this story in any way! I am immensely grateful, and (somewhat ironically) cannot express how much your support has meant to me. Much love, and please let me know if you would be interested in reading the sequel!

Varian stalked back and forth across his war room, making a poor attempt to disguise his irritation as he waited for Mathias Shaw to finish preparing his papers. He was not armoured, though he had nevertheless taken to carrying Shalamayne with him wherever he went, even within his own Keep. For now, the great blade rested along the length of the war table, its sharply honed silvered blade glinting up at Varian as he paced. He was not expecting violence at this particular meeting, of course, but there was something oddly comforting about having his faithful weapon in easily reach.

Genn Greymane was also in attendance, leaning up against the far wall with his sharp wolf's eyes tracking Varian's every move. Varian valued the older king's counsel, and more than that, he was one of the few people Varian trusted to care for Anduin and Auriana as if they were his own. Broll had remained upstairs, standing guard over Varian's chambers, while Jaina had returned to Dalaran to investigate the theft of the magebane that had been used to poison Auriana. They had both been somewhat reluctant to leave Varian alone, given the state he had been in for the last three days, but they had similarly understood the importance of their respective tasks.

Shaw had been hard at work interrogating a captured assassin in the dungeons of SI:7, while Varian had largely fretted over Auriana as she slept. Part of him had wanted to assist in Shaw's inquiries, to confront one of the would-be killers for himself, but in the end he had found it too difficult to tear himself from Auriana's side. Even today, he had been reluctant to hear Shaw's report, and it had only been because of Broll and Anduin's reassurances that he had finally made his way down to the war room.

"Are you ready yet?" Varian barked, coming to a halt beside the short end of his map table.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the spymaster said, hastily shoving the last of his papers beneath the rest of the pile. "My apologies for the delay."

"Just get on with it," he snapped, pointedly ignoring the admonishing look that Genn shot his way. "What have you learned?"

"Unfortunately, not much beyond what we already knew," Shaw said worriedly. "The assassin was paid a considerable amount of money - more than I would have expected, actually - but he does not know the true identity of his benefactor."

"You've had him for three days, Shaw, surely you can do better than that," Varian grunted. "SI:7 losing their touch?"

Shaw bristled ever slightly at the implication, but he was too clever and too well trained to lose his temper.

"With respect, Your Majesty, I could interrogate him for a year and I doubt it would make a difference," he said evenly. "He cannot…"

Shaw's words were cut off by a sharp rap at the door. Varian stood up straighter, wondering who could possibly have need of his attention  _now_ , and his fingers reflexively twitched towards Shalamayne's hilt.

"Come!" he snapped.

Varian inhaled sharply, somewhat looking forward to unleashing his irritation on whoever had been so bold as to interrupt his crucial meeting with Shaw; only to immediately deflate as  _Auriana_ , of all people, entered the room, supported on either side by Anduin and Broll. Her eyes widened as they met his, and a million different emotions flashed across her face.

"Auri…" he breathed.

Varian's heart seized in his chest at the sight of her, and he inadvertently let out a long, ragged sigh of relief. Yet as much as he wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and kiss her until they were both gasping and breathless, he was suddenly very cognisant of the fact that they were not alone. He was not generally one for public displays of affection, and he suspected that Auriana, too, would be mortified if he were to fuss over her properly in front of all the others.

"You needn't hold back on our account, Varian…" Genn urged, sensing his uncertainty, but Varian remained stubbornly in place.

"Later," he muttered awkwardly.

For now, he would have to be content with inspecting Auriana from across the room, as Anduin carefully ushered her inside. Broll followed close behind and took up a position on Auriana's left side, frowning down at her like a large, protective guard bear. She was leaning heavily on Anduin for balance, Varian noted, but otherwise she stood straight-backed and clear-eyed. The colour had returned to her cheeks, and if not for the bandages around her wrist and the few visible cuts and bruises along her arms, she would have seemed entirely unfazed by her adventures.

Normally, the sight of her looking so well recovered would have given Varian great comfort, but instead it only served to remind him of how close he had come to losing her.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," he growled.

"I tried to tell her..." Anduin insisted, though it was clear that there was little he could have done to prevent Auriana from doing exactly what she wanted.

"I'm well enough," Auriana said firmly, staring across at Varian as if daring him to disagree. "And I'm here now, so there's little point arguing about it. Have you learned anything from the man you captured?"

Her attention shifted to Mathias Shaw, and her eyes narrowed. Evidently, Anduin and Broll had filled her in on what had happened in the time she had been unconscious.

"Unfortunately not," Varian snapped.

He hated to admit failure at the best of times, even more so when it came to Auriana, and he made a poor attempt to hide his irritation by staring down at the war table instead of directly at her face.

"As I was just explaining to His Majesty, our prisoner has not been especially forthcoming," Shaw elaborated, "But I now believe that is because he doesn't actually  _know_  anything."

"Who would accept a contract to kill someone without even asking why?" Anduin wondered, clearly baffled by the idea that someone would kill for nothing more than money.

"Most hired blades," Varian corrected sternly. "Who needs answers when one has  _gold_?"

"Whoever is running this operation is smart," Shaw agreed. "The man we captured was paid handsomely to kill Prince Anduin and Lady Auriana, and to bring the bodies to a location in Westfall. He would not have been told anything else."

"You truly believe that?" Varian scoffed.

"It's how I would have done it," Shaw confirmed, his mouth drawing into a thin line. "Mercenaries, working in cells. None told anything more than they needed to know, so that they could not give anything away should they be captured."

"And what is the price of treason these days, do you suppose?" Varian said darkly.

He picked up a wooden lion marker from the war table, and idly turned the small figure over between his fingers.

"Considerable. Whoever is ultimately responsible for the attacks is both well funded and well armed," Shaw said grimly.

A strange expression crossed Auriana's face as he spoke, and she seemed suddenly nervous.

"I… I spoke with one of them," she said slowly. "A man. Possibly the leader."

" _What_?"

Varian's hands stilled, and he leaned forward across over the war table with great interest.

"Did he tell you anything of value?" Shaw asked urgently.

"Honestly, it's a little hard to recall the details," Auriana admitted, touching a pale hand to her temple, "But my suspicions were right. He was a member of the same group who were attempting to start a faction war on Draenor. Their plans have not changed."

She glanced across at Shaw, and her expression softened.

"I also think I know why you've been having so much trouble finding him," she added. "And I perhaps owe you an apology. I have been frustrated with the lack of progress in finding these attackers, but I understand now that this espionage business is… more complex than I gave you credit for. I am used to a different kind of enemy. It is not a simple matter to fight those who deal in lies and shadows."

Shaw was not a man who often showed his emotions, but even he could not hide the brief flicker of shock that crossed his face at Auriana's words. Their relationship had always been tense, ever since Shaw's agents had failed her during the Draenor expedition, but it seemed her experience had given her a new appreciation for the enormity of the burden placed upon Stormwind's spymaster.

"Thank you, my lady," he muttered, still looking a little baffled by her change of heart.

"It's nothing," she mumbled, though it was clear she was pleased that he had accepted her apology so readily. "Really."

The moment of reconciliation was short lived, however, as Genn immediately drew their attention back to the critical matter at hand.

"What did this man say that concerned you?" he asked.

"Something about… having been a spy for a long time," Auriana explained, glancing briefly across at Varian. "I… I think he's one of yours, Master Shaw."

A wave of shock rippled across the room, though of course Auriana's allegation made a great deal of sense. Getting into the castle or tracking Anduin and Auriana's movements so accurately would necessitate some kind of inside access, and who better than one of Stormwind's most elite spies? Unfortunately, it also suggested that these attacks were solely an internal problem. Varian had no particular desire to start a war, but in a way it had been easier to believe that the Horde or some other outside force had been responsible, rather than that he had once again been betrayed from within his own house.

"Could you describe this man, my lady?" Shaw asked Auriana.

He reached for his papers, and began to rifle through them with lightning fast fingers.

"Shaw? You believe this is plausible?"

"I began to consider the possibility after the bombings," the spymaster admitted, never taking his eyes off his papers. "As much as I hate to admit that one of my men would turn traitor, it  _would_ explain a great many things..."

"Why was I not informed?" Varian demanded.

"It was only an inkling. I had no proof, Your Majesty. Until now," Shaw replied levelly. "And when hunting rogue agents, it is best to keep one's suspicions as quiet as possible."

He paused, and looked up at Auriana.

"Describe him, please."

"He was tall," Auriana supplied quickly. "Actually tall, not just… tall relative to me. A few inches shorter than Varian, maybe, though not nearly as heavily built. Salt and pepper hair. A crooked nose. And he was… strange."

"Strange?"

"His mannerisms. He was odd. Overeager. Frantic, almost," she explained, shivering uncomfortably at the memory. "He struck me as being… not all there."

Shaw's face grew paler the longer she spoke, and the entire room suddenly swelled with a tight, nervous energy.

"Shaw?" Varian prompted.

The spymaster sighed, and withdrew a single sheet of parchment from his haphazardly stacked pile. He held it out toward Auriana with a grave expression.

"Like this?"

Upon the paper was scrawled a rough charcoal sketch of a gaunt-faced man with sharp, dangerous eyes and a badly broken nose. He looked vaguely familiar, though that was perhaps to be expected. SI:7 were answerable to Varian alone, and he had met many a rogue during his years as king. The artist had done a rather excellent job of giving the picture an uneasy sense of menace; so much so that Auriana actually gasped in recognition.

"Yes, that's him exactly!" she exclaimed, her eyes going wide. "How…?"

"He's SI:7," Varian said flatly.

It wasn't a question.

"As I said, after the bombings I began to investigate the possibility of an inside job," Shaw said wearily. "I compiled a list of everyone within my organisation who would have the necessary skill to pull off these sort of attacks. The only reason  _he_  was not at the top of my list is because I genuinely thought he was dead."

"Who is he?" Genn asked curiously, reaching out to take the parchment from Shaw so that he could inspect the portrait up close.

"His real name was Reid Ashton," Shaw explained, as the picture was passed around the room. "Or  _is_ , I suppose, now that we suspect he may no longer be deceased."

"I think his men called him differently, but I can't quite remember…" Auriana said, her forehead creasing in a thoughtful frown.

"An alias, most likely. Ashton was one of my finest rogues. He had been in service to the Crown since your father was king, Your Majesty."

"I think I recall the name, now that you mention it. He distinguished himself greatly in the Northrend campaign," Varian spat bitterly. "He was  _loyal_. What changed?"

Shaw shook his head sadly, and he suddenly seemed to find it difficult to find the right words.

"He had family in Southshore. A wife and two young children," he murmured, his green eyes darkening with memory. "They were killed when the Forsaken unleashed their Blight and destroyed the town. He arrived too late to the save them, and he himself was injured by inhaling the Blight that dissipated through the area after the attack."

Anduin winced in open sympathy, and it was clear that he was not the only one who felt remorse for the loss of Ashton's family. Genn's mouth drew into a thin, angry line, while Broll and Auriana exchanged a troubled look. There were many painful ways to die in Azeroth, but death by the Forsaken Blight had to be one of the worst. Whatever Ashton had become, his losses had been tragic, and even Varian felt the slightest bit of pity flicker beneath his mounting anger.

"It took him nearly a year to recover; physically at least, but as I came to learn, he had become… unhinged," Shaw continued gravely. "Whether it was the horror of losing his family, or the effects of the Blight itself is anyone's guess - perhaps even some combination of the two - but he was never the same man again."

"What became of him?" Genn asked.

"He became increasingly aggressive toward the Horde, engaging in actions unsanctioned by either SI:7 or the Crown," Shaw explained. "I had no choice but to intervene. I had planned to…  _retire_  him - forcibly, if necessary - when I received word that he had been killed in action."

He did not say it explicitly, but forced 'retirement' from SI:7 clearly meant death. It was not a part of Shaw's job that Varian envied, though he knew the spymaster held the safety of the royal family and the security of the kingdom above all else. Even if it meant killing a man who had once been a comrade in arms - or a friend.

"You believed his death to be genuine?" Varian probed, raising an eyebrow.

"At the time, the evidence was… most convincing. A mission gone wrong. In our line of work, it happens more often than I would like," Shaw confirmed.

"When was this? His alleged death, I mean."

"Perhaps two months before the bombing of Theramore," Shaw said, frowning slightly as he made the calculations in his head. "I can check my records for the exact date, Your Majesty, if you would like…"

Varian waved a hand dismissively. The detail was not important. All that mattered was that there was a madman after his son and consort; a man who would even go so far as to fake his own death in order to have his vengeance on the Horde.

"Why did it take him so long to resurface?" Genn mused, scratching thoughtfully at his short beard. "Why not after Theramore's fall? Or during the Siege of Orgrimmar, when anti-Horde sentiment was running high? He would have stood a better chance of rallying people to his cause while we were still at war."

"He had no money," Auriana interjected quietly. "You said it yourself, Master Shaw. Attacks like these require coin. And connections. Two things which he did not gain until fairly recently."

She was surprisingly confident in her assertion, and Varian could tell from the tight set of her jaw that there was something she wasn't telling him.

"Auriana?"

"I had my suspicions before, but the rogue confirmed it."

She swallowed.

"Rohas Anguile is bankrolling the attacks."

Varian stiffened, his fingers tightening around the wooden lion figurine he still held in the palm of his hand. It was an allegation Auriana had made many times in the past, but one he had never  _truly_  believed. Anguile was a clever, ambitious man, to be sure; but he was also cautious and proud, and Varian had always thought him far too fond of his own neck to risk outright treason.

"A leading member of the House of Nobles financed an attack on the heir to the throne of Stormwind?" Genn repeated, his voice clipped and sharp. "That is a serious accusation, Auriana."

"I know, my lord. But I also hope that you would know me well enough by now to understand that I would not say such things lightly," she said, nodding respectfully towards the Gilnean King. "No matter how I might feel about the man personally."

"I'm not calling you a liar," Genn assured her, "I am simply pointing out that such accusations carry serious political weight. I have never heard him express an particular enmity towards the Horde, or a desire for another war."

"Anguile doesn't care about the Horde. He bartered his wealth and support in exchange for… for my head. Anduin would have been the sole target, if not for Anguile's desire to see me dead," Auriana said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "He despises me for my relationship with Varian."

"It's true," Varian confirmed, trying and largely failing to swallow his rapidly rising anger. "You should see the way he looks at her in court sometimes, when he thinks I'm not paying attention…"

"More than that, he would do anything to prevent me from becoming Queen of Stormwind," Auriana continued. "He envisions his daughter in  _that_  particular role."

Varian blanched as he imagined being wedded to Cathelora Anguile. She was pretty, perhaps, but vapid and self-centred, and not at all deserving of the title of queen. He glanced briefly at Anduin, and from the look on the boy's face, it seemed he was equally unimpressed by the prospect of marrying Anguile's daughter. Before Varian could speak, however, Anduin gasped, and his eyes widened in sudden realisation.

"Anguile knew we were there," he whispered. "In Elwynn, I mean. His daughter overheard us talking about our plans, I didn't even think about it at the time…"

"I'd forgotten, too," Auriana hissed, looking up at him in horror. "We left so quickly, no one else knew where we were going. But if she had alerted her father…"

It was circumstantial evidence, perhaps, but for Varian, it was enough. Anguile had a bitter hatred for Auriana, and if he had known where they were, when no one else had… the coincidence was too great to ignore.

_I'll kill him. I will tear him apart with my bare hands_ …

The bubble of rage that had been steadily rising in Varian's chest abruptly swelled and popped, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to do great violence. His hands reflexively clenched; and he squeezed so tightly that the wooden figurine cracked and shattered beneath his iron grip.

_I will teach him what it means to harm_ my  _family_...

"Excuse me," he muttered, his voice sounding surprisingly calm out loud.

He opened his fist, and the splintered remains of the lion figurine tumbled down onto the war table. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room, and no one even dared  _breathe_  as Varian collected Shalamayne with a cold, deliberate determination. He would not kill Anguile quickly, he decided, but with aching slowness. Varian knew how to kill a man instantly and painlessly, of course, but such a death would be a kindness.

Anguile did not deserve his kindness.

"Varian…"

Varian was so lost in thoughts of vengeance that he failed to realise he had already made it to the door to the warm room. He looked up at the last moment, and was both surprised and infuriated to see Broll moving quickly to block his path. The archdruid stood stall and square shouldered, his muscles tensed for a fight, though his golden eyes shone with sympathy.

"Get out of my way, Broll," Varian growled harshly. "Or I will make you."

"You cannot kill a lord of Stormwind in cold blood," Broll insisted, his voice quiet but firm. "Even I know that. I would not have you do something that you cannot take back."

"Watch me," Varian snarled.

The archdruid did not move, however, even as Varian raised Shalamayne for effect. He never would have harmed Broll, of course, but he  _would_ have his way. He would claim Anguile's head, as was surely his right, and then Anduin and Auriana would be safe…

"You cannot do this, old friend," Broll repeated.

"No? You lost your child. Would you see me lose mine?" Varian snapped. "You of all people should understand why I must do this!"

It was a low blow, perhaps, but Varian was not above doing whatever it took to protect his family. He could make his apologies later, if necessary, but right now he needed to  _act_.

"I do understand," Broll said coolly, drawing himself up to his full height. "And I am standing here regardless.  _Think_ , Varian."

"Dammit, Broll! Do not make…"

"You are not a murderer, Father."

Anduin's voice was soft, but the weight of his words cracked through the air like a whip. He was not upset or demanding, just a steady and intractable presence in the room; the calm at the centre of Varian's storm. He stood as a stark contrast to his dark and furious father, but despite the gentle earnestness of his plea, Varian could not let go of his anger quite so easily.

"He tried to have you both killed! You are my son, Anduin, my  _only_  son!" he roared, his chest heaving with the effort of containing his fast burning rage as he rounded on the prince. "I don't care about politics, or titles…"

"Or consequences?"

Anduin's words were sharp, but his blue eyes shone with compassion, and for a moment he looked so much like his mother that Varian could not even look him in the eye. He snarled in frustration, and tightened his grip on Shalamayne in an effort to still his trembling fingers. He stole a sidelong glance at Shaw, stoic as ever, and Genn, who looked tired and troubled, though he could tell they were both mostly in agreement with Anduin. Ironically, Auriana was the only one he could not read, her face as pale and still as if it had been carved from marble.

"Auri, please… surely  _you_ understand…?" he demanded, hoping that she, at least, could see the truth of things. "I  _cannot_ suffer him to live!"

Of all the other people standing in his war room, competent and brave as they were,  _she_  was the truest warrior; the only one who could really understand the depths of Varian's fury. She was certainly not afraid of bloodshed, and yet she hesitated in the face of his seething anger. She exhaled and closed her eyes, and she seemed to be struggling with something deep inside herself as she considered his desperate plea. Varian saw the pale scars on her arms flare very briefly with her magic, but when she finally looked up at him once more, her voice was surprisingly steady.

"I… I can't prove that it was him," she said haltingly, with a hesitant shrug of her shoulders. "I was… hallucinating. Light, even I'm not entirely certain that my conversation with the assassin actually  _happened_. And if you kill a member of the House of Nobles without trial, on nothing more than the word of a woman who was half dead and seeing things… you're going to cause irreparable damage to your position as king."

"She is correct, my lord," Shaw agreed carefully. "A seemingly unprovoked attack against an influential noble could cause the whole lot of them to rebel against the Crown."

"And it would ultimately be the people of Stormwind who would suffer for it," Auriana continued, the confidence in her voice growing as she spoke. "You've seen it before. They could withhold stone, or grain, or money… they would do whatever they could to hurt and punish you for taking the life of one of their own without cause."

It was a good answer, a  _queen's_  answer, and Varian found himself reluctantly impressed, both by her reasoning and her willingness to stand tall before him. Unfortunately, she was absolutely right. There was not a noble alive who would dare confront Varian to his face, but they were certainly not above using their wealth and influence to make their displeasure known. Not to mention that if the House of Nobles were to take their frustrations out on the population of Stormwind as a means of punishing Varian for his actions, Auriana would be hated by the common people as the cause.

Of course, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that what she was saying was rational and right, it did little to soothe his tempestuous heart. Lo'Gosh howled for blood, and it was difficult to silence his voice. Not even a few years ago, Varian would have already been out the door and halfway to Anguile's quarters. He wasn't sure this was an improvement, brooding in his war room as the two sides of his personality warred with each other for control… and yet he  _had_ promised to better. For his son, and more recently, for  _her._

He sighed.

"Hmph. Fine," he conceded, though the thought of leaving Anguile for someone else to kill left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He turned away from Broll and strode back over to the war table, fingering the edge of Shalamayne's blade as he walked. The archdruid did not move, however, and cautiously remained to block the doorway even after Varian had laid the sword back down upon the table and stepped away. Evidently, he did not entirely trust Varian's stated intent to stand down - which perhaps was not unreasonable, given that Varian wasn't entirely sure whether he could trust  _himself_.

"We make it look like an accident, then," he resolved.

It would not be the first time SI:7 had arranged for someone's demise in a set of unremarkable circumstances, though it was not an option Varian typically preferred. He felt there was a certain cowardice in assassination, and he would have much preferred to kill Anguile face to face, to make sure the noble knew exactly  _who_  had come for him, and why. Still, in this case, dead was damned sight better than alive, and if Varian could not be the one to swing the blade, he had no qualms about using a proxy.

Anduin's lips drew into a thin, disapproving line at the suggestion, though Varian was surprised to find that Genn, Broll, and Shaw each looked similarly reluctant. His heated gaze swept across the room, daring them to object aloud, and one by one they all looked away. All, that is, save for Auriana.

"We can't do that, either, Varian," she murmured wearily.

"No? Last time I checked,  _you_ hated this man more than anyone!" he glowered, thrusting a finger bitterly in her direction.

"I do. But my anger isn't the most important issue here! I can't…"

She trailed off and took another deep breath, her grip on Anduin's arm tightening as she wrestled with her own latent fury.

"Anguile… Anguile is symptomatic of a larger problem," she continued, struggling to keep her tone calm and measured. "Some of the things Ashton said… I think there's a more extensive conspiracy than just he and Anguile alone. He may have been bluffing, of course, but I think there's a good chance there are other nobles involved in this plot."

"There are many people in the Alliance who would turn a profit from a war," Genn agreed, his heavy brows drawing together in concern. "Not to mention there are those who would support any action against the Horde."

There was an unspoken addendum to his words, and Varian knew that the older man was thinking of Sylvanas. While Genn may not have been willing to start an all out war between the Alliance and the Horde for no good reason, Varian did not doubt that he would contribute rather enthusiastically to any campaign that would give him a chance to kill the Banshee Queen.

"That's exactly my concern. Why take out one man when we have a chance to get them all?" Auriana reasoned. "Killing Anguile alone is not enough to keep Anduin safe. He is cunning, I'll give him that, but he's also coward. He's afraid of you, Varian. He would turn on his co-conspirators in an instant if it meant saving his neck from the chopping block."

"You're starting to think like a spy, my lady," Shaw observed, his sharp eyes raking her from head to toe as if he were seeing her for the first time.

It was high praise, especially coming from one of the greatest spies Stormwind had ever known, and it was clear that Shaw meant every word. Auriana gave him a brief smile, but her expression soon grew grave as she turned her attention back to Varian once more.

"What would you have me do, then?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"We need evidence," Auriana said thoughtfully, glancing over at Shaw for confirmation. "Something more than my word alone. Something that cannot be disputed or explained away."

"You're suggesting that we have…  _patience_ ," Varian growled.

"Until such a time as we have sufficient evidence to link Anguile to this shadow group, yes," she confirmed. "Genn?"

"I agree," the older king nodded. "There is little point lancing a single boil while a greater infection lingers underneath. They  _want_  you to destabilise Stormwind, Varian. Do not give them the satisfaction."

"I do not need to be lectured on how to run my own kingdom, Genn," Varian scowled warningly.

"Of course you don't. But you would not have asked us here if you did not value our insight," Genn countered. "It is one thing to move against the Duke on a whim, it is quite another to charge him with attempted regicide and treason, and to prove his guilt at a trial."

"No one would dare deny your right to kill him then, Your Majesty," Shaw agreed.

Varian studied each of his friends and advisors in turn, and he felt some of his blind fury fade as he did. He was no fool, and he was certainly not so far gone that he could not see when he was being counseled wisely. He himself might have even suggested a similarly considered plan, were the issue not so close to his heart. And yet patience alone would not cool the fierce fire burning in his veins; nor would it slake his primal, lusty need to see his mate and child protected...

"Bah. If I agreed - and I'm not saying that I do - what do you recommend, Shaw?"

The spymaster took a moment to consider the question, his green eyes narrowing shrewdly as he calculated possible alternatives.

"We execute our prisoner as a Defias. Publicly," he suggested. "We allow these traitors to believe that their ruse in Westfall worked, and that we know nothing of their real motives. In the meantime, we gather what evidence we can. As soon as we can prove Anguile's involvement, we move against him."

"While his men continue to make attempts on the lives of my family?" Varian demanded.

"Perhaps not. It may be some time before they are able to regroup for another attack. We killed a number of their men in the forest during the initial ambush," Broll supplied. "At least five, by my count, and then there were the three killed by wolves."

He and Auriana exchanged an oddly significant glance at the word 'wolves', though neither made to comment further.

"Another died in the cave," Anduin said, his expression wracked with guilt as he stared down at his hands.

"And I killed one, too," Auriana added hurriedly, perhaps to spare Anduin the pain of discussing the incident further.

It seemed to have worked, for her admission drew several disbelieving glances, and she shrugged.

"What?"

"As I understand it, you were badly injured, and unarmed," Genn marvelled. "How?"

"I… ah… I had my boot knife. I… well, I jumped out of a tree and stabbed him in the throat," she said sheepishly.

Genn grinned in approval, baring his teeth in a distinctly worgen smile, and despite everything, even Varian found himself smirking with pride. The assassins may have been skilled, armed, and well paid, but they could not hold a candle to Auriana's courage and ferocity.

"So, there are ten dead, and one captured," he concluded. "Out of how many?"

"A dozen, perhaps?" Auriana guessed. "I didn't really have time to count…"

"Nor did I, but I believe your estimate to be reasonably accurate," Broll agreed. "We also killed a number of their men in Westfall."

"What about this Ashton person, then? What if he is not the ringleader?" Varian wondered. "Or worse, what if he is not dead?"

"I can't say for sure," Auriana admitted. "He was ambushed by a very angry pantheress, that's how I escaped, though I've lived on Azeroth long enough to know that if you don't see someone die right in front of you, there's a good chance they're not dead."

"He has 'died' once before," Shaw said grimly. "He was one of my best. I would not count him out just yet, but I think Broll has the right of it. They gambled, and they lost. It will be some time before they can recover."

"Hmph," Varian mused. "Genn?"

"As difficult as it may be, I agree that in this case, patience is the best course of action," the older man said. "I understand the desire to protect your son more than anyone, but if there is a chance you can stop them all… I believe you must take advantage of that opportunity. Men who feel confident and secure are those most likely to make mistakes, and we know what we're looking for now."

"I still don't like it," Varian muttered, though the cloud of red that had plagued his vision grew slowly clearer. "Auriana?"

She hesitated for the briefest moment, lost in thought, and when she spoke, she looked not at him, but at Anduin.

"These men have earned their deaths," she murmured, "But we do it the right way. We are not murderers, or cowards. We must be better than those who would seek to tear us down."

Anduin gave her a small, approving smile in answer, and together they turned to watch Varian as he stalked back over to his war table and stared down at the carefully drawn map of the Eastern Kingdoms. He could have drawn the map in his sleep, so often had he stared at the gold etched borders and deep blue oceans. He ran his finger up the coast of Westfall, over the curve of the land that jutted out into the sea, and up towards the border with Elwynn Forest. His fingers lingered on the pale marbled tower that marked the location of Stormwind.  _Stormwind_ , the city that was his to protect, the city that he had sworn would never again be at the mercy of greedy, self-serving men.

He lifted his burning gaze met Auriana's, and she gave him a short, encouraging nod.

"Bah," he grunted, finally getting a hold of himself enough to relax his warlike posture. "Very well. Though I warn you, my tolerance for these games already grows thin."

"SI:7 will not rest until we have the evidence you need, Your Majesty," Shaw promised, his voice deepening with rarely heard emotion. "I swear to you."

Varian acknowledged the statement with a terse nod, though inwardly he did not share his spymaster's optimism.

"Leave me," he ordered.

Shaw complied immediately, gathering his papers and pausing only to bow respectfully to Varian before he made his way swiftly from the room. The others were slower to move, each staring at him with a range of expressions from mild concern to outright pity. Varian turned away.

"Auriana," he barked. "You stay."

For a moment, no one moved; though a second later, Varian heard the ring of boots on stone as Anduin, Genn and Broll slowly took their leave. He kept his back to them as they departed, taking a moment to compose himself, and he did not turn around until he heard the heavy wooden door close.

When he finally did, only Auriana remained. She was watching him carefully, almost uncertainly, and she was frozen in place as surely as if she had been bound. Varian wanted to go to her more than anything, but something held him back. Auriana had been in danger many times before, of course, but this time felt different.  _Personal_. She had not been in danger because she had been off saving the world or defending the Alliance, she had been in danger because she loved  _him_ , and he couldn't help but to feel responsible.

He wouldn't have blamed her if she were furious with him. After all, she had been the one who had been reluctant to enter into a relationship, precisely because of the complications that came with his role as King of Stormwind. Varian had sworn to her that he would keep her safe, but it seemed that he had once again failed a woman that he loved.

And yet… she was still here, staring up at him with those enormous blue eyes. She had sought  _him_  out, even despite her injuries. She was still standing here, even despite his anger, and he wondered if there was still some hope for them after all.

"Why are you standing over there?" he asked finally.

"I… I'm sorry, I thought you wanted me to stay?"

Auriana's face fell, and she reached for the door.

"No… no, that's not what I meant," Varian said hurriedly, cursing at himself under his breath. "I meant… why are you standing so far away from me?"

Her eyes kindled with sudden hope, and she smiled shyly back at him over her shoulder. Varian's throat tightened, and he crossed the room in four swift strides. He reached for her, unhesitating, pulling her back to face him and crashing his body against hers. She came willingly, throwing her arms around his neck, and he was so desperate to hold her close that he lifted her clear off the ground.

"Varian…" she gasped, burying her face in the side of his neck.

He growled in satisfaction, the sound echoing deep in his chest. There were precious few things on Azeroth he found sweeter than sound of his name on Auriana's lips, and he held her as if it were the last time he would ever get to touch her again. The last vestiges of his rage slowly began to fade as he cradled her in his arms, and for the first time since she and Anduin had disappeared, he felt truly whole once more.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, tangling his fingers through the lengths of her hair.

Auriana stiffened slightly against his body, and he gently lowered her to her feet.

" _You're_ sorry?" she asked, leaning back so that she could look him in the eye. "What for?"

"All of this…" Varian said bitterly, gesturing at her wounded arm. "I should have listened to you about Anguile. You're in danger because of  _me_. If you had chosen another man…"

"I don't  _want_ another man!" Auriana protested.

"But you were right," Varian said stiffly. "About me being the king. It makes things… difficult. It makes you a target."

Auriana stared up at him consideringly for a long moment, then abruptly looked down at her feet and shook her head. Concerned, Varian slid two fingers along the line of her jaw and lifted her chin, only to realise that she was  _laughing_. Her shoulders began to tremble with mirth, though he had absolutely no idea what she could have found so amusing.

"Auri? What…?" he asked, thoroughly bewildered.

"I've been hiding your rooms for the last few hours, terrified that you would be angry with me for what happened," she explained, trying to regather her breath, "While down here  _you've_ been worried about the exact same thing."

"You find this… funny?"

"There's a certain...  _irony_  to it, don't you think?" she said, shrugging her slender shoulders. "And at this point if I don't laugh, I think I might cry…"

She gave him a wry, weary grin, and Varian couldn't help but to let out a rueful chuckle of his own.

"I suppose laughter  _is_  preferable," he admitted, gently tucking a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Though… why do you think I would be angry with you?"

Auriana frowned, and the laughter faded from her eyes.

"Anduin was with me," she said quietly. "He could have been killed."

"He could have been anywhere," Varian reminded her. "Those assassins were after him, too. Besides which, we all thought the threat was passed. Myself included."

Auriana nodded vaguely, but she did not seem convinced.

"From what I understand, you were willing to give your life so that he might escape," Varian added, gently stroking her cheek with his calloused thumb.

"Of course," she murmured. "I would do...  _anything_ , if it meant keeping him safe."

Her tone was low and urgent, almost pleading, as if she thought Varian might not believe her.

"It's  _Anduin_ … he's…"

"I know. Light, Auriana, you would have died for him," Varian whispered hoarsely. "I knew that you loved me… but that you love my son, that you would protect him just as I would…"

He trailed off, trying to swallow down the sudden lump that had arisen in his throat. Putting into words what her actions had meant to him was an impossible task, but he seemed to have said enough. She blushed prettily at his praise, and pressed a single small hand to his chest, just above his heart.

"Well… it's… if it's anyone's fault, it's mine," he added gruffly.

"Varian. No," Auriana countered. "If I'm not allowed to blame myself… then you certainly can't blame  _yourself,_ either."

"I… I couldn't stand it if you were disappointed in me," he confessed.

" _Never,_ " she said firmly, "But we cannot spend the rest of our lives arguing over who gets to take the blame. Anduin was right. It isn't your fault, or mine, or Broll's, or anyone else's, save for these... warmongers."

Her fingers traced small, soothing circles on his chest, and she gave him an reassuring smile.

"He's a wise man, your son," she said.

"So I keep learning," Varian agreed.

He covered her hand with his own, and let out a long, shaky sigh. He was still troubled, of course, but it was difficult to maintain his blind rage with Auriana standing safely in front of him. Her presence alone was soothing, and he was grateful beyond words to have her home.

"So. We are playing the waiting game, then. I warn you, I am not a patient man."

"I'm not exactly renowned for my patience, either," Auriana pointed out, "But what choice do we have? The people of Stormwind have to come first. As much as I would dearly love to educate Anguile on some of the  _finer_ points of fire magic… we cannot risk the stability of the kingdom by acting prematurely."

Varian was once again struck by her magnanimity and grace, and he found himself smiling despite himself. She was no longer the cold, desperately sad woman he had met in Stormshield so many months ago, and he was unbelievably proud of how far she had come.

"Since when did you become such a deft hand at politics?" he teased gently.

"I'm not, really," she insisted, with a slight roll of her eyes. "I just... I decided that if I was going to be a lady, I ought to learn how to do it properly. So I've been watching you, and Genn, and Anduin. Listening. Trying to be the best I can. Our people deserve that much."

For all Auriana had fought against her noble heritage, and for all her fears about being his queen, Varian knew she had the right kind of heart. She was not the kind of leader who demanded sacrifices from others, but rather the kind to give everything of herself to keep her people safe, and he loved her all the more for it. He was still furious with the cowards who sought to take her light from the world, but in that moment he realised that his anger was perhaps best left for another time. Auriana was alive, and safe in his arms, and for now, that was enough.

"'Our' people?" he repeated, smirking at her slip of the tongue.

"Stop looking at me like that. You know what I mean," she said dismissively, her cheeks flushing bright red.

"Yes, I think I do."

Varian reached down and took Auriana's hands in his, being very careful of her broken arm. His proposal had seemed somewhat unimportant when faced with the possibility of losing her forever, but now that she was home…

He cleared his throat.

"Last time we spoke, I asked you a question…"

"Yes, you did," she murmured shyly.

"Broll told me why you went to Elwynn," he confessed.

Auriana inhaled sharply at his words, and it seemed to Varian as if the entire room were suddenly charged with electricity. The collar of his tunic felt uncomfortably tight, and an unfamiliar sense of nervousness and uncertainty gripped his heart. Asking her  _once_  had been bad enough, but after everything that had happened... he found raising the issue for a second time to be a daunting prospect indeed.

"I… I see," she stammered. "Um…"

"Please don't be angry with him," Varian added quickly. "At the time, it very much looked like we would never see you alive again."

"I'm not mad," she assured him, though she was now staring very determinedly down at her own feet. "I… did he mention anything… else?"

Varian took a deep breath, and prayed to the Light that she could not see how plainly nervous he truly was. Despite what Broll had said, there was still a chance that Auriana had changed her mind, and had decided that wedding him was more trouble than it was worth. When he had rescued her from Stranglethorn Vale, he had promised that he would accept any answer she gave him, and he had  _meant_ it, but there was no denying how badly he wanted her to say yes.

"Broll said only that you had considered my proposal," he murmured. "And that… that you had considered it… ah... favourably…"

His heart was thundering so fast and so loud that he was certain Auriana had to be able to hear it, but she still would not look him in the eye. She appeared to be deep in thought, and the longer they stood in silence, the more anxious Varian grew. His palms grew slick with sweat, and he vaguely began to wonder if his war room had always been so  _hot._

"Oh, bloody hell," he growled, throwing caution to the wind. "Auriana. I love you. What I want has not changed, and I believe you still owe me an answer...?"

Varian turned her chin upwards to face him, and was somewhat surprised to see that she was smiling. Auriana rarely smiled fully, preferring instead small grins or sardonic smirks, and the sight of her unashamedly beaming up at him took Varian's breath away. He all but forgot his anger and worry as she reached up and took his face between his hands, and kissed him as softly and sweetly as she ever had. A wave of giddy, uncontrollable hope washed over him, and his hands slid hungrily down to Auriana's slim waist as she whispered against his lips...

"No."

" _What_?"

He pulled back, completely baffled by her response, and was utterly shocked to see her still smiling warmly up at him. Everything about her body language suggested eagerness and happiness, a positive response to the question he had asked her so many days ago, and yet she had refused him.

"'No'?" he repeated disbelievingly. "I don't… why would you…. why are you still smiling?"

Varian had no idea what had come over her, nor how to reconcile her words with the undisguised love shining in her eyes as she stared up at him.

"Auri…?"

"There is an old tradition in Kul Tiras," she said slowly, tracing her fingers along the line of the scar that bridged his nose. "A man who is  _truly_ serious in his intentions must ask a woman for her hand three times. It has not been common practice for many years now, but it was how my father asked my mother."

Her expression grew slightly wistful as she spoke, but the smile never left her face.

"Hmph. And why would a man do such a thing?" Varian growled, his hands tightening possessively around her body.

"To prove himself, I suppose," she explained. "If he is not strong enough to persevere in the face of adversity… if he will not fight for the woman he loves… then he cannot be considered worthy."

Auriana bit her lip mischievously, and Varian now strongly suspected that she was not denying him at all. The first proposal had been on  _his_ terms, but it seemed that the second would be on  _hers_.

"Are you suggesting that I should ask again?" he said drily. "Most women would not be so bold as to play such games with a king."

Auriana stood up straighter, her eyes blazing fiercely, and for a second Varian saw a brief, blinding flash of the queen that she could one day be.

"I'm not most women."

He snorted, unable to deny the simple truth of her statement, and he conceded the point with a wry shake of his head. Auriana's willingness to see him as a man first and a king second was one of the things Varian loved most about her, and in that moment, he decided he was more than willing to go along with her family's traditions. He  _was_  worthy, and he would do whatever it took to prove it to her.

"Will you marry me?" he rumbled, leaning forward to press his forehead lovingly against hers.

"No," she whispered again, her lips trembling with barely contained excitement.

She was incredibly beautiful, and brave, and brilliant; so much so that Varian's heart all but stopped in his chest as he gazed down upon her. He looped his hands through her hair, his own eager desire surging as he pulled her close and trapped her roughly between his body and the door.

"Dammit, woman, will you marry me?" he half-growled, half-laughed. "I'm not going to ask again."

Auriana blushed happily, though she pretended to consider the question with great seriousness. Her brows drew together in mock concern, but there was no hiding the pure, uncomplicated joy that shone in her eyes. Her smile grew somehow even wider, and she trembled with emotion as she leaned into his embrace and buried her face his chest.

"Yes," she said finally. "I will."


End file.
